


Up in Flames

by Abi_Faye



Category: The Chronicles
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi_Faye/pseuds/Abi_Faye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't have to dance with me,<br/>you don't have to dance at all.<br/>You can just lie there looking good, <br/>or you can play by yourself.<br/>We should be careful because the canyons scream<br/>as the valley sleeps at night.<br/>Then the fear takes hold, <br/>as the Santa Ana winds blow cold.<br/>Cause if the city's going up in flames, <br/>we oughta go down, down, down together. </p><p>or; AU: what if Antonio had been raised by Remington, and Olivier by Belle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One With A Heart

**Antonio:** *Phone to his ear, Antonio nodded, waving his hand off to indicate he agreed, the woman walking away from him to institute the change in the dinner arrangements. Furniture and some decorations (not too many, the manor was already decoration enough as it was) were moving by themselves in the pattern they'd already discussed.  
  
Murielle organized every party for him, big or small. She was the very best and had the added benefit of loyalty. Not to mention, she was also a tomcat in the sack. He believed that's how the saying went, one of Olivier's movies had used the term.  
  
His gaze rose from her back side to the ceiling as he chuckled at the other person on the line, slipping a hand in his pocket.* Of course, I never doubted you. *He had, actually he was rather hoping for a failure, ah well.* And now that you're free, come over tonight.  
  
*He turns, walking towards the door to the balcony when he realizes just who is sitting on top of the grand piano.* Perfect. *He wasn't entirely directing that comment to the person the phone* Ciao.   
  
*He pocketed his phone* You're a little too early for the party, cherie.  
  
 **Daniella:** *Tucking an ebony curl behind her ear, she has stiletto and diamond-adorned heels tucked around each other as she leans back further on the piano. Though she could only hear the one end of the conversation with or without her hair in the way, the casual gesture was one too obvious to mean she'd actually be eavesdropping. Her tongue meets the roof of her mouth at the last comment, pencilled brow in her hairline, licking over a light chuckle. Yeah, that tone?   
  
Whoever was on the other end, they'd been doubted. Significantly. Maybe even messed things up for her dear capo over there by surviving! Ha. She plunks a finger down on the black key, picking out the first note (she thinks) of Clair de Lune, and then picks up the sheet music on the top, fingers ever sticky. Not that she was there to steal anything tonight, per-say. Olivier's, she guesses. Did Antonio D'Grey know of the Fray?   
  
She doesn't look around hearing 'perfect,' but her lips curl anyway. That was for her. And, it was true. Waiting for the tell-tale click, she chuckles and shakes her head just once, curls exposing her neck as she continues reading the music notes.* Oh sorry, darling. *Her nail toys with the last curl over her navy open-v. Now she blinks at him.* Did I put a kink in your master plan to impress me?   
  
**Antonio:** Not everything in my life abides by some great master plan, Daniella. *He slips his hands out of his pockets again, his gaze starting at her exposed neck and then traveling down. The use of the wander here would not work after all; he had knowledge of his exact destination.*  
  
Just the dull things. *He smirks and then sits at the bench, in front of her instead of on the piano beside her. Wiggling his fingers over the keys, those she wasn't blocking with her crossed legs, he starts playing a simple tune.   
  
When it came time to hit a note she was blocking, he simply pressed down on the available skin.* What are you wearing tonight?  
  
 **Daniella:** Glad to hear it, really. If there had been...well. Maybe I wanted to startle you. *She ponders at her own meaning for early arrival with that catty grin she loves to give. Only this time she offers it to herself, as he sits at the piano bench.  A silver mirror adorned the wall behind him, partially obscured by a flower vase. It amuses her the roses were white.* Catch you off guard...*her nail tangles in the curl and she uses it to point at the glass vase,* now see, I would have figured you for the blood-red type.   
  
Ah, *she doesn't pause for breath, curl pointing at the ceiling now,* but that would be predictable and cliche and all those other things you refuse to be.   
  
*It was irritating, actually. His absolute refusal to fall into a stereotypical villain made it difficult to remember he was one. Of course in his story, that would be her, he just didn't know that yet. Index finger and thumb popping as his fingers mistake her for piano keys to play, the curl falls to her bare neck.  
  
The cat's-grin lifts as her eyes fall to his.* Why? Want to make sure your tie can match my gown?  
  
 **Tony:** I implore you to keep trying. *He replies after a chuckle, knowing that there were very few things that caught him off guard and even fewer things that caught him off guard that he enjoyed.  
  
He doesn't lift his head as she talks of the roses, knowing what they looked like and where they were, not needing a second look to establish it.* White roses, though they're famously known for meaning purity and innocence, can also mean secrecy. *He pauses and then smirks* So I'm told. *Though he was also told that red would hide the stains but, who wanted to hide anything?*  
  
Deliberating on a corsage *he teases as his hands find the piano keys once more* and impatient for a visual feast.  
  
 **Daniella:** *See, it was things like that. Amalie (she could hear herself telling her friend later over a white wine glass), what kind of redemption-less psychopaths conversed regularly with a language of flowers? Italian ones, apparently. With their Armani, Lamborghini's, and baby blue eyes she could drown in.* Innocence and secrecy...*she muses, releasing the sheet music and letting it flutter away. Then, matter of fact,* I suppose it makes sense. Either the pure's secret is how they can stand remaining so, or the secret is,* her eyes flash to his,* it's all a facade in the first place.   
  
*Her lips quirk. A finger lands on herself.* Or perhaps I'm reading too much into things. *That wasn't possible with this man. He paid attention to everything. And there were two of them, Madonna have mercy, though his older brother was less attentive to decorations than he was to perceived slights or threats on Antonio's personage. The finger taps on her lips.* Maybe you just thought they were pretty.   
  
*Then she laughs, leaning forward as if to provide what he lacked patience for (well, this top did lack anything but straps like spaghetti cut too thin to hold it up). Her eyes stay on where his finger abandoned her skin.* A corsage, oh, darling if you want me to wear something of yours, I prefer diamonds. *She wiggles her heel, anklet flashing near his shoulder.* Or amethysts, *she allows with a head-tilt,* and there, you know the color of the dress now.   
  
*Her hands fall behind her, so as not to hide the view. She looks back to the mirror and roses, asking passing casual,* Now, I forget. Tonight's affair, the ruse for it is naturally your brother's birthday and yet -- *She looks at him with a small smirk.* What are we really celebrating? Your reclaiming the crown alone, or is there some new territory to add to your empire?   
  
**Antonio:** *He listened with interest and found his smirk widening at the second explanation, quite enjoying and preferring that one as much as Daniella seemed to as well.*   
  
They are beautiful flowers. *He agreed as she said he might have just chosen them because they were pretty. Well, beauty was always a factor, of course.*  
  
Oh, mon amour, now you've ruined the surprise. *He smirked and then took hold of her foot, looking only after keeping her gaze for a few seconds. Charming anklet, and breathtaking shoes. And that could be quite literal. The heel could easily go through a throat much as a stiletto knife could, and he wouldn't be surprised to find that the heels did turn into knives for hairy situations, giving her weapons and sensible shoes all in one go. But now he was deviating towards a fantasy level.  
  
His hand slid up to finger the anklet for a moment while his eyes went ahead of his hand to travel up the river of her legs, the valley of her stomach, the hills of her breasts which were on quite the display. He might not have been a student for going on eight years, but still he had an appreciation for geography.  
  
Maintain a conversation and enjoy the sights simultaneously? Old hat. Amethyst, meaning violet.* The color of royalty. *He remarked, eyebrows rising in amused appreciation.* Very appropriate.  
  
*His hand reached her calf, smirking* Should I be insulted that you think me capable of having an ulterior motive where my brother is concerned? *Oh, everything he did had a purpose, more often than not it had several, but when it came to Olivier, Antonio tried not to get him too involved. He was under no false belief for the real reason his brother remained.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Mm, *she exhales in heat as she keeps her gaze on his, even as he takes her foot,* shame, you're right. *That wasn't something she said often, and serious? Never. Her lips quirk, head tilting as she flexes her ankle in his loose grip.* I suppose there's no point coming, then.  
  
*As if she was going to miss the charade of french government officials alongside vampires, in Antonio's manor, for anything. It was Olivier's birthday party! She couldn't miss -that-. Why, he'd never forgive her. Needless to say her smirk had widened considerably as he comments again on color symbolism, and she points her toes towards the roses, a ballet position (she thinks).* Naturally. *Her inhale was heated, breath matching his fingers slow rise.* Would you have your empress wearing anything less? *She tsks against the roof of her mouth.   
  
It cuts off with her dry chuckle. Hooded gaze still locked on his, she murmurs,* No. I'm not fool enough to insult you, Antonio D'Grey. *She looks back at her own hand, running it over the smooth cheery wood of the baby grand with seeming disinterest to her own words. Her smirk only widens.* And perhaps it's backwards, but personally -- I think it's intelligent to make use of opportunities and have dual objectives. *Her hand pauses on the scripted 'G' inlaid.'*  I'm pretty sure Olivier would agree.   
  
**Antonio:** Your absence would be a loss to us both. *He spoke plainly and then raised his eyebrows before he explained.* You, of an incredible night, and me of your company.  
  
*His gaze met hers again but then it traveled down again as she pointed her toes so straightly that it should have been painful. Every show of flexibility, no matter how small and distant, only ever served as a reminder to men of one thing.  
  
He lifted his gaze again with a smirk* Far less, actually. And if it were a more private affair, I would insist. *But it wasn't, so royal violet it would be, because they both knew that Daniella would be here tonight.  
  
His smirk only widened as his hand continued to slip forward, fingers sinking in her skin, and she claimed not to be foolish enough to insult him.* Foolish isn't the trait of people who insult me. *Not in their own minds, at least.*  
  
Is it not also intelligent to keep any possible dual objectives close to your breast?  
  
 **Daniella:** Ah. *She chuckles, but in that way that says plainly she's amused from flattery - but not impressed, as he was as close to typical "man" as Antonio ever got for saying she should wear less. (As if he wasn't already too well aware of that, actually).   
  
Exhibit A, evidenced by the procession of his fingers reaching her thigh. Her own blue eyes darkened (and shaded in amethyst eye make-up, incidentally), she bats painted lashes just once at him. Pointed.* No? You going to say it's suicidal instead? *The words were playful but perhaps a bit..pointed as her lashes had been. He'd put on more than a few shows, after all - though she'd only been present for one.  
  
Her smirk widens.* Perhaps. *Truthfully? She didn't really think - or hadn't, until he plays smooth now - that he had anything untoward happening. Olivier was the reason she was convinced there was good in Antonio worth fighting for. He wouldn't do something on his brother's birthday - beyond making good of opportunities presented. The problem was, those would be numerous, and Olivier didn't seem all that concerned with stopping him, unless he was drinking and muttering, or it was Stefanie telling her what he actually thought, for damn both of these boys and their ability for white rose facades.   
  
Still, the point was to appear casually curious without overly so, so she could be similar when she actually did want to know something. Well. That, and the game was fun. And - yup, inner thigh, his fingers, damn was it getting warmer in here?* Let me check. *She says, gently tugging on her own v neck, tucking her chin down as she looks.*   
  
**Antonio:** *His lips flicker as his fingers pause on their ascend as she suggests the trait 'suicidal', and he lifts his gaze from her gorgeous body to her eyes.* Bravery. *He answers after a long moment of stretched out silence.* Almost always accompanied with a touch of desperation.   
  
*He looks back down at her thighs as he starts tracing small patterns with his thumb.* Sometimes it's self-importance, sprinkled with cockiness. *He tilts his head* Others believe themselves righteous and noble. Foolishness is hardly in the mix.  
  
*Reaching her upper thigh as she decided to check her breasts for closely held dual objectives, Antonio smirks and raises his other hand to the opposite thigh to better lift her, bringing her to sit on the piano keys themselves so he could have a better look as well, the room filling with cacophonous sound that bounced off the walls. He leans his head in, looking down as he examines, tracing the curvature of her breasts with his eyes.* Perhaps I was wrong.  
  
 **Daniella:** *The single word answer stole her breath. Bravery. It was brave to insult him, and she supposed she couldn't help but agree, as his eyes bore into hers and she stares unabashedly back. Of course she did, with the first part anyways: for wasn't that what she was doing?* I can respect that.  
  
*Oh, but did she mean those insulting him or his view? Her eyes say that for her, playful. Insulting him, though? No, she wasn't. Antonio D'Grey was influential in all those boring ways (wealth, violence) - but he was far worse (and greater) than that: he was brilliant. Sherlock-Holmes level brilliant. Exacting. Were it not for the bouts of reckless, impulsive murder, he'd likely be president of France.   
  
Instead, he was king. (His brother prince). She was defying him and falling for him, she wouldn't deny, all at once. Her heart skips a beat. It was possible to defy a man who hunted and executed in mock trial, and like the one who plays Beethoven as easily as Frére Jacques. Contradictory, selfish, lustful - those were the words to use, she thinks, and yes - brave. Desperate, on the other hand, made her hand flatten on the piano as if to stall striking him. It was a near thing.   
  
Righteous and noble - ha, perhaps the first, but not of the self-nature. The crusade was her brother's salvation; she wasn't fooled by her own game into thinking she had any other noble cause. Vengeance and justice did not meld well together - but surely if she sought the former, Stefanie and Olivier could find the latter?  And if all she sought was vengeance well -- Antonio could understand that.  
  
A sharp gasp left her lips as he yanks, cutting off the thought. Chuckling, she settles her arms around his shoulder instead. He smirks over eyes locked a foot beneath hers, and she echoes it, pressing her chest forward, lifting as he leans.* Doth my ears deceive me? You, wrong?   
  
*His breath was hot on her exposed, lifted skin, tickling her neck and gracing her curls to bounce. She catches her own. Her eyes flick to follow her own hand down to toy with his top button. Heated, she murmurs,* You can look if I can. *And pops it open. Her eyes stay on his piercing blue gaze, thumb slipping beneath the linen to his skin instead.*   
  
Tell me what you're looking for?  
  
 **Antonio:** *Ah, respect for what though? He chuckled, knowing she said it that way purposefully. Daniella was as careful with his words as he was; it was one of the various characteristics he liked about her. Though 'like', he was slowly noticing the more time he spent with her, was losing accuracy. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what to do with it, just that it was unknown territory. And like all things borne out of uncertainty, it filled him with both apprehension and exhilaration.  
  
His eyebrows lifted and wiggled appreciatively at her sharp gasp and her tease.* If they have, *he spoke of her ears* they shall not get a second chance to hear correctly.  
  
*His fingers gripped the under and the side of her upper thighs as hers toy with the button of his shirt before popping it open to 'make it fair'. He smirks at her question before looking up at her again.* The dual objective. *He hooks his fingers under her panties.* Or is it hidden elsewhere?  
  
 **Daniella:** *With a bright 'ah', mostly teasing, she slaps at his fingers - well, she hits her skirt and hipbone more than his hand hidden beneath it with her ruler of a hand. Then, squeezing over it, she rests her hand where he has her hooked, knowing full well he could snap the string before she blinks. Hybrid strength and speed, merlin, it was a wonder she kept her breath at all sometimes.* Naughty.   
  
*The word became her tone as she chews on her bottom lip,  wiggles over the keys to hear the playful discordant sound. Heels hung over the bench, she points out,* You're the one that said close to breast, you know. *Her hand on his shirt slips up his collarbone to his neck, murmuring,* Only have yourself to blame. And if you want to find it you'll have to be a little more specific...I have far more than two objectives, darling.  
  
*That was certainly true. Her lips quirk up. Could name three right now, she thinks, though none were particularly illuminating. Had a lot to do with his mouth, on three places. Lips, breast and -- well, she shouldn't be -vulgar-. Not unless she was aloud, anyway, where she could reap the benefits of her loose behavior.*  
  
 **Antonio:** You like it. *That was quite obvious, for who didn't? It was the defining fact of human nature: they craved sins, and enjoyed depravities no matter how much they denied it (no matter their efforts to slap it away). This, however, was quite tame by comparison.  
  
His brief laughter was hot on the skin of her chest as she wiggled, causing the piano to sing out its unwilling melody, as if it could protest what was happening on top of it at this very moment.*  
  
Your multiple objectives then, forgive my limitation. *He tugged her panties down, dragging his nail against her thigh, and then smirked as it slipped below her skirt, allowing him to examine it.* These might be my favorite pair so far, amore.  
  
 **Daniella:** *Her nose wrinkles as he retorts, though only in exaggerated jest. It echoes in her sigh.* Oh, darling...  
  
*He ignored her hand on his, of course, except to chuckle into her v-neck and turn her olive skin rosy. The blood-red kind, not his white, but then again she never really claimed to be innocent (and he must not know she was being secretive).* If the game is in contradiction, *she points out, continuing her thought as she arches her hips like a cat when his nail scratches,* why do you make it so I have no choice but to say I don't desire it? Hm?   
  
*Her brow pops, lip freed between her teeth abruptly as the navy silk appeared between his forefinger and thumb.* Are you so masochist you want to hear my denial, or so sadistic you want to force me?  
  
*It was a tease. Mostly. Mostly a tease. Goddamn that naughty smirk of his.*    
  
 **Antonio** : Hmmm *His him vibrated through his throat as he placed one simple kiss on her chest like he'd been wanting to do since...the moment he had seen her sitting on that piano.  
  
Well, actually, that wasn't the only thing he had wanted to do but he was a man of patience.* Now you're the one restricting me. *He brought a hand to hold her legs up from her crossed ankles, as the other continued to tug the panties down.* With that 'or'.  
  
*He got her panties off, and folded them before slipping them in his front pocket. Looking back at her, he smirks* Deny it then. Or does me telling you to deny it mean you have to contradict that as well?  
  
 **Daniella:** *Weren't vampires supposed to steal heat? She was warmed from toes up the moment his lips graced smooth, open skin and she swallows a naked curse two seconds too late.   
  
Only to roll her eyes when he lifts, pulls and...folds, oi vey - the piano keys jangle accordingly - * How dare I. *She mocks with ease.* Use your tactics back against you. *And he didn't deny either charge, she notices. Uncrossing her ankles, she lets them land on either side of his hips now, digging her stilettos into his back as she 'hms' herself.* Well.   
  
*A sudden condescension on her smirk, words sarcastic,* Is that how contradiction usually works? *She wiggles her finger between them, wondering how in the world she was going to get those back and deciding whether or not she cared at the same time.* I just personally think it's more fun to describe wanting you. More adjectives, see. But if that's restricting your sadomasochistic roleplaying, I wouldn't dare.  
  
*Her lips press together a moment as she looks at him with dark eyes. Nails curling behind her around the piano keys and ledge, she leans forward to breathe easily, half under her breath.* You'll have to let me get up if I'm going to be in any state to adorn your arm tonight, you know.   
  
**Antonio:** The difference being of course, I used them unknowingly yet you used it willfully. *He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows before continuing* Maliciously. *Daniella enjoyed adjectives, and Antonio enjoyed adverbs. Then again, what were adverbs except an adjective's adjective? (Many things, including other adverb's adjectives which would make it an adjective's adjective's adjective, but he digressed.*  
  
We'll leave the role-playing for another time, so by all means, describe it to me. Paint a picture with your words. *But about letting her stand, well, and as much as he acknowledged the logic in her words, he simply did not want to. He dipped his fingers to her thigh once more, a finger brushing her folds.* Do you believe I only think of you as decoration mon chere?  
  
 **Daniella:** True. *Sucking on her lip, she lifts one hand to toy with it with her thumb. Her eyes cast to the ceiling, batting for show once, twice, three times. Then she exhales with a grin, mouth popping apart again and releasing the caught bottom lip and thumb. Brightly, she leans forward again (chest lifting pointedly).* You like it.   
  
*If she didn't already have abundant evidence, she had it in his fingers, toying with wet flesh and making her shiver against two black keys and one ivory one. Breathing in a flames as she vibrates between them, she hisses thinking - goddammit, she couldn't hide the arousal if she'd wanted too. Luckily, neither one of them were much for that (except for everything important internally).   
  
Eyes casting between to look at the skirt where she could see his fingers moving, she chuckles and says first,* You'll have to do more to tempt me than that...*She flicks her eyes up to his, hand toying with the back of his neck.* Am I more?   
  
**Antonio:** *The laugh that left his lips as she answered his accusation by yet again using his tactics against him was a more genuine one than he had shared in what felt like ages. His smirk even momentary softened into a grin before he lifted his eyebrows and tilted his head in silent agreement. Yes, yes he did.  
  
But the smirk returned at her shiver and at hearing distorted notes play again; music to his ears.* Patience is a virtue, Daniella. *He loved to say her name, feel it roll of his tongue; Antonio looked for any excuse to say it. And he wasn't bluffing about patience either, he was taking his time.  
  
Smirking as she answered his question with one of her own, he parted her lips delicately, dipping just enough to wet his fingertips before leaving her opening altogether to rub small circles against her clit. He looked into her eyes again and had to lick his lips at her darkening eyes.* Would you be here if you weren't?  
  
 **Daniella** : *His chuckle was...light, abruptly so, and it quirks her lips soft as his lips were as they slid across her skin. Or maybe that - yeah, Madonna, that was just his breath. Was there nothing about this man she wasn't attracted to? (Aside from the obvious).   
  
It was...happy, she realized with her own echoing chuckle. That was it, that was the sound coming out of her mouth: genuine delight. She tells herself it was because of where his fingers were, the sinful heaven of their toying tips, and successfully stops thinking.   
  
She cranes her neck, letting out a gasp next to his ear, and murmurs into it. (It was just a game, right?) * Touché, Antonio. I do think-*she lets out another tiny gasp as his thumb rotated,*-more of myself than a shiny ribbon. But careful...  
  
*Aiee--oh lord, she shuts teeth and lips so he won't hear her moment of...pure Zen. Her teeth take the shell if his ear as she finishes the thought in a dangerously low whisper.* Your heart's showing, capo...  
  
 **Antonio** : *And the music continued. Her sharp gasps mixed with the sharp notes that her wriggling body was causing from the grand piano. Her breath, hot and heavy against his ear, stubbornly sported words for no other purpose it seemed than to not let him win.  
  
He wasn't sure when this had become a game. On the other hand, it had never stopped being one. Antonio liked games almost as much as he liked winning them, but in this game he was finding himself equally matched. It was unprecedented.  
  
So his eyes drift close momentarily as well when she takes his ear between her teeth, the feverish action preceded words that somehow did just as much as her touch to continue exciting him.* I'm always careful, *He whispered against her neck, and pressed a kiss to her pulse as he applied more pressure to her nub, his movements still slow.*  
  
But tell me, *he licked up to her throat and dragged his teeth against pinking skin* do you find it as black as they say?  
  
 **Daniella:** *One thing she had always prided herself on was the simple fact that whatever her physical enjoyment, her mind still works. Problem-solving, observatory, whirling--it mattered not if there were interrupting flashes of heat and light, they only sharpened the mental camera click. She thought this particularly useful when it came to her relationship (such as it was) with Antonio Laurent D'Grey. Murderer, genius, manipulator, serial flatterer, pianist who spoke the languages of Italian, French, English, colors and the flowers. If she for one moment lost her head with this man, she would be lost for good--and she knows it.  
  
Goddamn were his fucking fingers testing her diamond-strong reserve. It was payback, then, that she tugs on his ear in a sharp nip and opens the shirt to tweak his nipple. Payback for his challenge to get her to let go.  
  
(Maybe she wants to see if he could do it).  
  
She giggles. Dry, her words remain low.* They? You mean..*her mouth parts to breathe against the soft shell of his ear, tongue soothing her bite,* the papers you or your brother paid to paint you in a particular light? The ones who, *she trails her tongue behind his ear,* buy tickets to your show, *swallows her sharp gasp at his thumb,* believe the old wives tales about your sinful debauchery? *Another nip.* To be fair, you are enjoying the blood rising in my neck in a particularly sinful way, I gamble.  
  
 **Antonio:** *Some people believed that a man had no use for nipples. From a purely biological standpoint, no they didn't for they would never breastfeed a child, which was the objective. However, Antonio wouldn't describe them as useless, especially not when they had the same pleasure receptors as a woman's. That they didn't was another false belief.  
  
He licked his lips and bit on his lower one in enjoyment, her words once again bringing as much pleasure as the hot air they traveled in, but maybe not as much as her wet tongue did when it stroked his sensitive ear. Her mouth on his ear only brought her chest closer to him, and thanks to the piano she was just elevated enough to reach her breasts without having to dip his head too far away from her.  
  
He took her breast into his mouth through her shirt, sampling how much material there was between the skin and his lips. The answer was too much, so he bit down slowly, tugged, and released, and repeated the action around the mound, finally doing the same to where the nipple would be if he could see it.  
  
He brought his mouth back and kissed her neck again as she mentioned it.* To be fair, *he bit down slowly there, tugged the supple skin between his teeth, sucked and soothed with his tongue, and released* I enjoy everything about you in particular sinful ways.  
  
*He parted her folds to circle her opening with his index finger, spreading her wetness around.* Those people don't say I have a black heart. *He corrected with murmured words against her skin, and after a lick of his lips and a brief sigh, he continued.* They say I lack one all together.  
  
 **Daniella:** *If she was the kind of person to beg mercy, Antonio's slippery, warm fingers and torturous mouth circling her breast, then neck, mmm, wet and -- well he'd be pulling passionate pleads from parted lips. Thank his seven hells she was never so common. (Gasps, fine he could have those.) Enjoying his sounds of pleasure, (okay, she hadn't said she wasn't a hypocrite) -- she let's her eyes flutter briefly as she giggles.* True...  
  
*She turns her neck to offer him more of it, even as her eyes stay stubbornly open. Daniella liked to watch. Somehow, it was just important there was a piano and a mirror to play with. Fingers crawling down his neck slowly, she pauses her hand on his chest over said heart as she muses.* They're wrong. *It was breathless.   
  
And too genuine, she realizes abruptly: gasped out even as he works his wicked way on her. That deep belief that his heart was as red as hers, beating furious fire. Dark-eyed, she traces a nail over his skin as she ponders, almost idle,* It's a silly thought regardless. Without a heart, one wouldn't care. And if one didn't care. About life, death, love, loss, anything. How could one know where to inflict pain the worst? No. *Her eyes lift from her hand, to the silver glass. A picture of sin answers her: ebony curls on them both, flushed red skin, wanton on the grand.* It's the ones with a heart you have to watch out for.   
  
**Antonio** : *His lips form a smirk against her skin as she tilts her neck to offer more of it to him and he takes it, nibbling and sucking on skin, leaving pink bite marks and small bruises from broken capillaries right under the skin. It makes his mouth water.  
  
He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand a s she drags a nail and continues speaking her opinion. Daniella was incredibly smart and had a very clear understanding of the way this world worked, and the way men like him worked. Then again, there were no men like him. Only him. (Wouldn't Olivier be so proud of his reference?) He smirked and then nodded against her skin, agreeing before slipping a finger between her folds, pushing into her slowly, and pulling back out again.*  
  
And that's exactly what I'm doing. *He spoke, going over to her right breast, kissing the spot above her beating heart. _Watching out for one with heart_. He entered her again, just as slowly but deeper.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Mmm, *her low murmur of mutual agreement arrests with his sudden probe-cuts off in a high gasp she turns to sigh, giggling out,* watching out for me, Antonio?  
  
*As well he should.* How sweet. *Oh, she was clear on his meaning, but she appreciates the idea that he was 'watching out for her', taking care of her, oh entirely so. With another small gasp as his finger withdraws, this of disappointment, she adds,* Am I so frightfully dangerous?  
  
*Yes, as he well knew. The tongue on her throat reminds her of that; she half expected his blunted teeth to break skin regardless. He was certainly eager enough for it sometimes.* Watching out for me...  
  
*His finger broke skin again instead and she squeezes her ankles into him as she adds in heat,*...or inviting me to come?  
  
 **Antonio:** *He chuckled thinking sweet, he supposed so. If you thought of it as him watching out for her well being, and taking care of her. Which he was; Antonio found himself actively ensuring her safety with every passing moment in her company. The dual objective close to his breast, however...  
  
Antonio learned young enough that when something seemed too good to be true, it's because it was. Such situations quickly fell away to reveal the shams they had been all along. You could say he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, except where Antonio was involved, the shoe never got a chance to hit the ground before he caught it.  
  
The most dangerous aspect about this situation however was that he could feel himself hoping against it. Ignore logic, and reasoning. He wanted to believe it could go well; wanted to believe that something good could come easy, just once.  
  
He dragged his teeth up to her jaw, tracing  the line of it with his tongue as she asked if she was dangerous.* Deadly. *He responded before placing a kiss to her cheek, moving closer to her mouth. Antonio had been keeping himself away from it for as long as he could, a masochistic venture that would quickly end.  
  
She pulled him closer as her heels dug into his back, and he brought his gaze up to her eyes once more, his lips on the verge of drying from the constant licking of them. He smirked then and added another finger, scissoring them inside of her.*   
  
Dual objectives. *He answered her question against her lips before, just as slowly as he'd been doing everything else, he drew her plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling and sucking.*  
  
 **Daniella:** *The actions of his lips, tongue, fingers -- god, this man, this goddamn man, she couldn't ignore any part of him -- were sinful and heavenly, as contradictory as ... well, both of them. And when he finally met her lips she growls in hunger for him. Nothing else, because the truth was she always preferred a slow burn.   
  
Apart from his eyes. Her own had been locked on the mirror, but something in her playful taunt had jerked his gaze to hers again and she feels shivers slip up her spine that had very little to do with all those other mind-blowing precise tweaks on her strings. Her blue eyes pierce his, but it might as well have been silver lances riding toward each other in tourney, daring the other but in the end only glancing off the shield.   
  
Throat dry, she nods once at his adverb (how he loved those)- though it's the wrong one, it suits just fine. Or else she'd find herself explaining why she had no intention on ever taking a life, and yes at cost of her own if need be - to the man that notorious vampire and sociopath (and fashion-plate, but that part she didn't argue with) Remington D'Grey personally tutored...as after all, he was Antonio's father.  
  
Nor could she deny her less-than-saintly nature or desires. Particularly in regard to his blasted empire. Yet there was something in his gaze that makes her still, some deep yearning she hadn't seen before and, almost without thinking about it, Daniella finds herself treasuring.  
  
Another aborted, abrupt gasp on her lips as he scissors and her neck snaps her gaze up to the ceiling. Her fingers claim keys ever as they tangle and search for grip.* Aha. *She chuckles, eyes looking at the inlaid gold. Dual objectives.* Clever. As always, your majesty. *The terms of endearment tended to both vary with whichever game was of the moment and -- well, go up in rank as she did in pleasure.*  
  
Nice to know you care. *She offers, eyelashes fluttering. Her words were murmured.* Truly. *Actually it was a right bother, it always confused her so.* And deadly, my, didn't know I'd earned such a high title already.


	2. Sterling Silver Lining

**Olivier:** *Cuff links. That should go on Stefanie's list. All the things he's never quite grown comfortable with in this mad, darker world Remington had ensnared him in. Only made sense after all: he'd never worn sleeves before. The Italian sun was too hot for that. And if he did, he didn't wear sleeves that required -buttoning-.   
  
Antonio had always dressed better than he did - at least until it took his little brother a year longer to grow into a suit when they were fifteen. (He wasn't sure Tonio'd ever forgiven him that. He smirks to himself as he redoes the cuff above his elbow and digs it into the wood of their bar.   
  
Were birthday parties supposed to be so wearing as to last into the next morning? (Actually, he knew what that was, but he tried not to think about it - the bourbon on hand helped). Smirking to himself as he hears his brother behind him, he responds without turning around.* We don't open for at least ten hours, you know. *Or maybe he didn't. Antonio couldn't be expected to know -all- the businesses hours at this point, when he was so busy with everything else. Subtler details were left to him sometimes (though his brother liked giving that impression just as often, surprising rival fools when he knew the fine print better than they did). Turning after a sip, he cocks an eyebrow at him and smirks when he sees his brother's still wearing his suit from the previous night, the same as him. Ah. They both did well then. (Well, was there ever any doubt?) Gesturing at the shirt,* You're still in blue-violet. What with with the color coordination last night? Cause I gotta tell you, if you're trying to go Bonnie and Clyde with Dani...well. *His eyebrow wiggles.* Clyde was impotent.  
  
 **Antonio:** Really? *He brought his left wrist up to check his Audemars watch and then shrugs, putting both hands in his pockets.* Good thing nothing ever closes for me. *He wiggles his eyebrows and then takes off his jacket, slinging it over the counter.  
  
He smirked and shook his at his brother's reference  to the criminal duo made popular by American t.v. Antonio didn't really find them all that intimidating. And Olivier was only giving more reasons to think less of them, or at least of Clyde.* The color you're looking for is amethyst not ah 'blue-violet'.  
  
And while not very fitting I would still prefer the comparison to Ferdinand and Isabella or perhaps Justinian and Theodora. *After a pause, he teases his brother with a smirk* Unfortunately, no television programmes have been of them so I understand if you're confused.  
  
 **Olivier:** *Rolling his eyes, he reaches over to pat his brother on the shoulder.* Starbucks doesn't close on anyone either, fratello. *Besides, throwing their name around hadn't ever done him any good he could think of -- only made people terrified. Well, or girls panty-less, but he'd roll his eyes at that too. Really, if women wanted men to take them seriously as equals - if they didn't want to be objectified by their looks, why did they do the same to him for his name?*   
  
Amethyst, right, sure. *His lips quirk, wry.* You pick that up from Hans' color wheel too? Eliza keeps doing that, telling me I said the wrong shade...  
  
*Slipping around the bar now to fetch the bottle again, the open one, he takes a cloth to wipe it down, as might as well. He could easily have enchanted it but, he wanted to keep his hands busy right now.*   
  
I didn't skip all of Dad's tutors, you know. *(Yeah, he didn't have any idea who Justinan was, nor Theodora).* Just the ones I couldn't sleep through. *He winks.* Ferdinand and Isabella. *He retorts, towel revolving in a slow circle, smirking,*   You and Daniella interested in trying to find a new world?  
  
 **Antonio:** Not anymore, you're right. *His smug smile stays on his face as he walks closer, pulling a stool back to sit down, folding up the cuffs of his sleeves up to his mid forearm.* He doesn't have a color wheel. *Why would he need it when Hans had all the colors memorized?  
  
Antonio smirked before inquiring casually,* Curious, slept through or slept with? *There were a couple Antonio remembered that were quite...inspiring.* Don't give me any ideas. *He tapped on the bar and then held his hand out for the bottle. Olivier was taking too long to offer him a drink.*  
  
 **Olivier:** *He cups his hand to his ear.* Pardon moi? *He was right? Oh, this was a banner day then! Not for the first time, he wished he'd had a tape recorder to be able to play back what his brother told him. Except such a thing would be far too dangerous. Evidence for criminal trials, and what not. As if they couldn't make it, the thief, the prosecutor and the judge all disappear - but still, safe than sorry it was better to be.  
  
(And because it would be pathetic for him to want to just listen over and over again to his brother admitting such).* So he's just. *His nose wrinkles up.* Got all of them memorized. Freak.   
  
*He threw the dish cloth into the sink away from them, and went to wash his hands, turning the jeweled rings on his left hand to insure the gemstone wouldn't get wet. A smirk lifts at his mouths' corners as he reminisces.* Oh, the latter, but I skipped those thereafter, obviously. *Well, one. And he hadn't skipped with Jeanette, he'd convinced her to leave before she ended up Remington's meal - but, details.  
  
He blinks as Antonio reaches over and chuckles, brows raised as he wipes his hands off.* Well I -was- going to pour you one, but now?* He throws that one away too, reaching for his own glass.*  Get it yourself. *After another sip, he snorted half incredulously, teasing,* Might be capo now, but you're still -my- baby bro.   
  
  **Antonio:** *He rolls his eyes and then adds quite pleasantly* Yes, Starbucks no longer closes on anyone. *He shrugs before adding* Because a certain someone got tired of not being able to have his Hazelnut Dolce Latte at 2 a.m and did something about it. *And people said he made the world a worse place.*  
  
Says the man who can recite the entire dialogue of Top Gun, beginning to end, including sound effects. *That seemed a little more ridiculous than having a color wheel memorized and a lot less useful.  
  
With his eyebrows raised as Olivier told him to get it himself, he chuckled, restraining an annoyed groan at 'baby bro' and instead waving his hand to make the bottle and a glass float towards him. He could have gotten up of course but why should he?* Yeah yeah, you're lucky that's true.  
  
*He opened it and began to pour before asking* You never told me, how'd you like your party? *He smirks* Only the best for my 'big bro.'   
  
**Olivier:** And thank you for that. *His lips quirked as he toasted his brother, who'd made it happen as ever. Over a sip he amends,* Still, how modest of you to boast of something true for everyone now.   
  
*Of course, Antonio hadn't just been talking about Starbucks. And his brother won...often, too often, too easily. So he had to put up a fight- even on the little things, if he was the only one who might keep him from a big head. (Daniella might tell him the truth, but anything beside getting a rise out of him - aha, bad pun - she wasn't particularly suited for.) He chuckles as if to say 'touche' to both points and folds his arms over the bar, leaning over it.  
  
Only the best, yeah.* Well, I'd have maybe preferred a few less...hundred, people, maybe less smooth jazz and more Floyd -- but all in all. *He smirks easily, more bemused than anything.* Certainly is an ego-boost. Always nice to know we're appreciated. *Easily adding,* On risk of offending to their inevitable gruesome death, of course. Brava, brava, bravissimo. *Musing for a second as he fiddles with the cufflinks (how had his brother gotten his sleeves up and somehow not screwed those up anyways?), he tilts his head.* Seriously though, it was fun. And gave Stefanie an excuse to wear ... *he ahems, smirking,* so, not going to complain.  And yeah, gigantic crowd. How's it feel to be on the front page of every newspaper in the English-speaking world, even though the other side denies the incident? Congratulations.   
  
*He waits a beat, dead serious. Then chuckles to himself, smirking and jerking his index finger between them.* That's funny, see, cause it's from Top Gun.    
  
 **Antonio:** *Huh, had there been that many? Maybe a hundred, but no more than that. It was no doubt part of his brother's usual exaggerations when it came to all things lavish and extravagant. Antonio knew perfectly well Olivier would have preferred going to a bar or something similar.*  
  
Very untrue, a few people declined the invitation and they're walking around with everything intact. *He smiled. But maybe the next time they needed a favor he would have to respectfully decline as well.* Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. And her. *He smirks and then sets the bottle back down after he's done pouring, eye brows lifted over the glass he brought to his lips as he listens only to snort at the explanation.  
  
Licking his lips, he comments* Hysterical. *He lifts his glass* To obscure movie references. *He winks and takes another drink before holding up a finger, instructing silently for Olivier to wait. He grabbed his suit jacket and brought a thin black and flat box out of his pocket, ties up by a small ribbon.  
  
He turned and then slid the box over to his brother.* Happy Birthday, go wild!  
  
 **Olivier** : *Tipping his head back, he makes an exasperated grunting acknowledgement sound at the back of his throat and raised the glass. Despite his displeasure at such a notion, Olivier smirked. Oooh, no murder on his birthday then, happy birthday to him! He took a quick sip.   
  
Then he flipped his watch up (the same make of his brothers, a previous years present actually), and asked just as casually,* It's been an entire seventeen hours, when did you start slacking?* He smiles as easily (or maybe more so) as Antonio had. It softens genuinely as his brother continued though, for he...had enjoyed himself. Or rather? He had enjoyed spending time with a few friends he'd not seen in a while, enjoyed snarking comments with Stefanie (and oh yeah, her gown) -- but mostly he enjoyed the fact that he could make his brother smile like that. It was important to Antonio he share this with him, Olivier knew, just as much as Antonio knew he didn't agree with most of what he did. Without someone to share it with...  
  
Well, there was a reason that Remington had defied nature to have children, after all. (But there was a train of thought he didn't want to go down, as it inevitably reminds him of his mother and a nagging ache appears in his heart. He would have preferred to spend time with her for his birthday. The sticking point was...that had been true for a decade now, and it wasn't going to do anyone favor now to dwell on the disappointment or nostalgia. Antonio didn't have the memories he did, he wouldn't bring her up now.  
  
But he did have his birthday with his brother. And oh, how terrible, his brother wants the whole of France to worship him on his birthday -- yeah, he'd be a pretentious prick to complain seriously about that. As long as he got that, he'd enjoy and/or endure a lot worse than similar parties.  
  
His eyebrows say as much as he echoes,* And to Ferdinand and Isabella. *Then he's stalled from being able to drink as his brother gives him a gift. Smiling, he snaps his fingers to untie the ribbon so he doesn't have to lower his glass. Then he blinks at the VIP passes, the tickets and lanyards (even those were stylish, which was insanely impressive...but, well. Silk was hard to do badly.) The small smile becomes a wide beam.* Tonio....these are great, Madonna... *He looks up to toast him, waiting until they've sipped before he remarks casually,* Stef tried to get tickets weeks ago...stayed up online and everything. Thanks. *He claps his brothers shoulder twice, then his cheek.*   
  
**Antonio:** *Antonio was not a stranger to gifting. You could even say it was just a part of who he was: he knew what people liked, and knew how to get it for them. Sometimes the gifts spoke his gratitude, other times they implied vague threats, but one thing was always true: Antonio didn't give gifts out without, ha, there being dual objectives.  
  
Except for with his brother. There was only one objective there, to make him happy. And those pair of concert tickets were making his brother a lot happier than having a room of the most powerful and influential people in France congregate to celebrate your birth ever could.*  
  
I know, she kept moaning about how they were gone instantly. *He smirks and then raises a finger off the glass halfway to his mouth* To be fair, I did get them before they went on sale, so originality points still stand.  
  
*His smirk turns into an easy smile as Olivier claps his shoulders and  cheek, Antonio clapping the opposing shoulder himself and squeezing* Just don't let your little blonde make an entree out of the guitarist.  
  
 **Olivier:** Sounds like Stef--no, wait. *He snaps his fingers again.* I'm thinking of different moans. *Setting the glass down with a smirk to himself, it turned nostalgic as he thought of his girlfriend and folds his arms back over the bar.* Oh, definitely. Extremely original. Plus, she wasn't getting them as a gift, so I would have still been paying.  
  
*What he took particular pride in lately, was that his own capital was no longer directly tied to the business his brother was in charge of, despite being an integral member of it himself. This bar, which likely was why Antonio knew he'd find him there, was his -- he obviously didn't have to pay protection money to his own self and brother, and the dealers knew to stay away. Olivier had even hired the waitressing staff personally. If he could just make enough that Antonio didn't have to give up the payments on his Lambourghinis, Porshes -- even that old Camaro his brother remained oh-so-attached to -- or the clothes...  
  
He clears his throat with a laugh.* I think your little brunette is oddly more likely of that, you know. Besides, she'd share. *Unabashedly licking his bottom lip, Olivier runs his finger around the rim of the glass.* And you ever try telling Stef what she can and can't do? It doesn't work too well.  
  
 **Antonio:** Well she's certainly not quiet about either. *He was almost convinced his brother and Stefanie were making a game out of fucking in every inch of the manor. Then again, Antonio supposed he wasn't one to talk given his recent baptizement of the grand piano.  
  
The pride with which Olivier said that he would have been paying for it himself, not Antonio, was nearly palpable. Olivier was proud to be making his own money independently and Antonio was as well, even if it did feel just one step closer to his brother deciding enough was enough and leaving altogether. Antonio tried not to think about it.*   
  
Without fangs? *He considered this about Daniella briefly. She might be able to if she wanted to, but she wouldn't. He shrugged and then took another drink.* Yes, actually. I told her what not to do and she did it which was precisely my intention in the first place.  
  
Alas, that trick could only work once.  
  
 **Olivier:** Nooo,*Maybe he should have pointed out - ew, gross, his brother was listening? - but he didn't, too busy being smug. It was a talent of his, sometimes anyways. Look, he never claimed to escape the D'Grey mindset entirely,*  She isn't.   
  
*Stef couldn't have been quiet if she wanted to, he thinks. Eying his brother closely,* Ooh sorry, are we keeping you awake? Sorry, bro. *He claps his hand near his brother's on the bar.* We'll try to be more conscientious.    
  
*Now returning to his drink, he found himself laughing in the comfortable silence. Stefanie would just see through that now, it was true, but it was just so...her, to fall for it in the first place. It was one of the things he liked so much about her: for all her fire, she could be impossibly naive. Which was so very...human. Haaa. He drank to that.*   
  
Yeah, well, we don't need fangs do we? *Looking at his brother think about Daniella put a smile on his face.* And Miss Katherine certainly has the kiss-me-or-kill-me-attitude.   
  
**Antonio:** *He scoffs and then shook his head before clarifying* No, it's more like I know that at any given time you're both in the manor, I'm likely to walk in on you two if I don't keep an ear out for her...vibratos. *He smirks before shrugging.* Thankfully, the manor is large enough to avoid such encounters.  
  
*He took the bottle and poured a little more in his glass, lifting it to his mouth with an amused smile, acknowledging the truth behind his brother's words, only to fall confused to them again. How was it that he was one of the most well-educated people in the world and he couldn't understand what his brother talked about half the time?* Katherine who?  
  
 **Olivier:** My favorite Italian aria. *Though there was a truth to that, especially in the last month. Had it only been a month? It felt like longer to him, since her transformation.* And all right, fair point -- increased libido is a side effect, of the dying thing. Apparently. Not that I'm complaining.   
  
*His smirk said otherwise, though likely only to his annoyingly-aware-of-his-every-facial-expression brother, so he turns back to finish his drink off and heading to the cash register to get a quarter for the box out. Complaining wasn't the right word though. He was just...he snorts to himself, okay, fine, he was a little tired of being looked at like a piece of meat. Irony had loved him all his life. At least something had, aside his brother.  
  
Rolling his eyes in only minute surprise at the question, he puts the coin in, hits the button to play, and waits until Gershwin (for his brother's sanity) is in the background to answer.* Petrova. You telling me Dani hasn't dragged you to watch her Vampire Diaries collection yet? Oh, bro, you're missing out. Just...ignore anything Julie Plec wrote.  
  
 **Antonio:** *No, Olivier wasn't complaining about the sex, he was a man after all, but the way he spoke was clear enough to Antonio that his brother was still bitter about Stefanie's choice. Just the fact that he was using the word 'death' to describe it spoke volumes, and yes she was supposedly immortal now (supposedly because of course she could still very well die yet again) so the word 'dead' was rather ironic.*  
  
It's not many dead people that can fuck the day away, brother. Silver lining. *He smirks and then after taking a sip of his glass, he must presume that the 'vampire diaries' were a tv show.* I don't really have time for idle TV-watching, you know.  
  
 **Olivier:** Oh, sterling. *He tried not to sound too bitter and as ever, immediately his brother had seen straight through him. Would he ever be able to hide something from him? (Would any in the whole of France, actually?) Pausing to conduct the top notes of Rhapsody in Blue, he let his wagging index finger turn baton before he points at him.* No, I suppose you don't.   
  
*He kicks his heel behind the other and tilts his head at him. It was sad to him, how little time his brother had for idle anything.* Still, I think you call her Katerina and you'll be pretty well rewarded. *With a pause,* Hope for her responding with 'Elijah' or 'Kol.' Damon's not bad. Stefan's an insult, though a minor one. Klaus, though? Well, if I did not find the idea of striking a woman abhorrent...    
  
*Trailing off and still conducting the swirling jazz notes, he let them punctuate his point. Then asks, ha, "idly,"* You never answered me, you know. The two of you, both in amethyst?  
  
 **Antonio** : *He had absolutely no idea who these people were but one thing was for certain- he wouldn't want to be called anything other than his name. There was no higher value to him. He chuckled.* And take away something you and her bond over? *He smirks* Who am I to get in between friends and their weird vampire show? Besides, I don't need any help getting rewarded.  
  
*Hell, he lived it, why would he want to watch it?* She came to the manor before the party and I asked what color she'd be wearing, to decide which type of jewelry to best give her but she teased if I wanted to know for color matching so I did. *He shrugs with a smug smile, taking another drink.*  
  
 **Olivier:** Brother, don't you worry. Our bond, is unbreakable. *Hand out, voice pitched, it was his best Damon Salvatore impersonation and unfortunately, entirely wasted on his stubborn-ass brother. He'd have to redo it for Stef later.* Besides, *He chuckles, walking back to the bar,* If it was one that mattered, I'd have said True Blood.   
  
*He only nods; yeah, he could cop to that. It wasn't just his brother with the super-vampire-hearing after all. Thoughts to put in a neat little box, tie up, Fed-Ex it to Fiji. They could live vicariously through him! (Actually, there were days he wanted to ship him-self- to Fiji...though not as many lately. The country was stabilizing...slowly.)* Ahh. *He nods again, this time in understanding as he leaned against the bar near his brother.* Teased. You mean. Dared.   
  
*There was a beat, as he screws his lips up, licks the bottom one and, drops his neck forward in a shrug of 'no judgment despite my ever widening smirk.'* Well, the two of you looked good. Just wondering, *and he was, genuinely,* how uh - much, she knows.   
  
*Actually he wanted to know what Daniella -meant- to Antonio lately, but asking his brother about his feelings? Ha. No, it was 'what knowledge does she have?' that would allow a pertinent answer.   
  
**Antonio:** Something tells me that's another reference, huh? *He chuckled and shook his head. His brother was wasting valuable headspace by knowing all of these little pieces of information that would statistically never come in handy or be of any good use. But, if Olivier was enjoying himself, who was he to tell him otherwise? Only the most powerful man in all of France.*  
  
Of course we did. *They were aesthetically pleasing people and appearing together he  was sure they had been the envy of nearly everyone there. Good. Olivier's next question made him turn his head to face him better. How much did Daniella know?* I don't talk business with her. And if I do, it's vague. No names, no details, et cetera, you know how it works. *He had been gesturing with his hand which he now used to pick up the glass again and take a sip.*  
  
Why do you ask? *His eyebrows pop up.*  
  
 **Olivier:** Sadly wasted. *Inclining his neck in agreement, he chuckles even as he casts his eyes over his brother's shoulder. Years taught him when his brother did not want to watch something, or listen to a band, or -- well, anything that was not specifically what he wanted to do, then he wasn't going to. Antonio truly did not know what he was missing...and it wasn't Plec's ship wars.  
  
His eyes meet his brothers again as he answers, in a vague non-committal way that would make him roll his eyes if he wasn't serious. Still, he smirks.* Because curiosity killed the Kat. *Dammit, he really would have to repeat some of this to Stef: his brother didn't appreciate the fact he was on a roll here, all right?* And being on your arm in vibrant-matching fashion might put her in danger. Not that I'm suggesting you tell her details though, *it wasn't his only concern, but this was a valid one and more likely to catch his brother's attention (at least in a way that didn't threaten Daniella further),* of course not, just...a bit surprised by the public couple-ship.   
  
*His lips twist up.* You aren't exactly known for your monogamy, brother.    
  
 **Antonio:** *He snorts and then shakes his head,* She's more than capable of taking care of herself. *That didn't mean he hadn't sent over one of his most trusted guards to check on the security of her apartment or well, what he supposed was one of her apartments; she was a pureblood as well after all. And he was also counting of course on the fact that, as his brother pointed out, he wasn't known for his monogamous relationships.  
  
But more importantly, the simple fact was that there was no one in France willing to go against him anymore. Well, not one that could pose a viable threat. If he was being honest, it was a little boring now. Just part of the price of peace, he supposed, which was much more desirable than fun chaos. Or so his brother had spent years making him believe.*  
  
Who said I was becoming monogamous?  
  
 **Olivier:** That I don't doubt. *It was spoken quickly, dry.* Though I implore you to tell her that frequently if you don't want to wake up and find she -has- fetched herself a pair of fangs.  
  
*This wasn't supposed to be about him, though. This wasn't about Stef, or what happened, even as they made it possible. His brother in control - well, yes, he supposed he saw the virtue that it was better than if anyone else was. But couldn't that be the government instead? Half, at least, of his brother's employees made his skin crawl. (Yeah, yeah, his too - but not at this bar). Not a good idea when dealing with hybrids who might decide their blood had a better purpose than in-their-body, by the way!  
  
He smirks at the question.* She did. Oh, not explicitly, she's denying it too. *He props his cheek up, eyes cast still just over his brother's shoulder.* I saw the mark on her neck, asked. Not the first girl you've bitten but, none of the others that I can think of remembered it afterwards.   
  
*Now he meets his brother's gaze.* Am I wrong?  
  
 **Antonio:** *He shrugged* I wouldn't mind half as much. *As you do, was the unspoken but all too loud addition that Antonio had left out. He moved on though, knowing it was just his brother's frustration seeping through. What he needed to remember though was better his girlfriend here and a blood sucking monster like the rest of them than buried in a coffin in the ground along with the majority of her family.  
  
It shouldn't have made him smirk that smugly, even if it was just for a split moment, to hear Olivier had gotten that impression from Daniella herself. He reached for his glass again and drank as Olivier explained his reasoning, tilting his head and licking his lips after a small sigh. The glass clicked against the bar as he set it down.* You're not wrong.  
  
*He had said his brother was right already today, Antonio couldn't do it a second time.* ...She's different.  
  
 **Olivier:** *Well, of course he wouldn't. Antonio had literally lived with vampires his entire life. Yes, maybe Olivier was being a hypocrite; after all, it was he that had first discovered their cravings for blood (in spectacular D'Grey fashion!), not his brother. But...she didn't need to- it was her own choice! That was what was so frustrating. She didn't see that she was enough (more than) the way she'd been -- no matter his efforts. Maybe if he could stop failing the people he cared about--  
  
Oh, wow, totally pathetic line of thought, ending that one right now. He clears his throat with another small chuckle at the phrasing instead: "not wrong." Yeah, sure Antonio. The smile was soft though as he looked at him. He nods just once.* Different...yeah, I got that impression from the fact she was remembering -fondly-, too.   
  
*It was a tease. Not that he didn't understand the pull--the pleasure to be had from being drunk from, as he lived it himself, but...he -had- a vampire for a father. She was, far as he was aware, entirely human. Just. "Different."* And she definitely-- well, *he whistles,* things she did to help tear the organization apart...  
  
*Olivier smirks.* Or do you mean different with you?   
  
**Antonio:** *Why wouldn't she remember fondly? He made it a very pleasant and enjoyable experience but he merely smirked instead of saying that out loud. After all, his brother's preferred method of feeding was from a blood bag. Maybe now with Stefanie's priority being to suck everything dry as she'd have for the next decade or so, Olivier could wean off the bag and onto living people. The blood tasted much better at 98.6.  
  
He nodded, remembering fondly himself watching her in action. That was the first time he had taken her seriously; Antonio wasn't easily impressed.* I mean different...to me, I suppose.  
  
 **Olivier:** *Antonio's smirk said it all for him (and his eyebrows, naturally), but he was glad they did. He didn't want lecture number pound-sign-138 on his own compromise with balancing their genetic need and his, you know, personal desire not to feel like a rapist.   
  
Lifting his chin as he sees a look flash over his brothers eyes, he smirks.* She's gotten under your skin, hasn't she? *About flipping time, his eyebrows and lip-lick echo. The thing was...well, Daniella had worked hard to bring down...one criminal empire already...  
  
He tilts his head, genuinely curious.* You aren't lying to her, right? Just omitting? Not that you're ever particularly subtle, but. *He inclines his head again as if to indicate how much that was an act, even if only Olivier knew it.*   
  
**Antonio:** Figuratively to my literally, yes. *He chuckled, a soft and genuine sound that didn't last for very long before he pursed his lips together and took another drink. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to go about this. That's why he was 'winging' it, doing whatever felt right at that moment and praying that it didn't all go to shit. This whole, having no idea how to proceed or how its going to end wasn't one that Antonio was particularly comfortable with.*  
  
I haven't lied to her about anything. That doesn't mean she needs to know where I am or what I do every hour of the day. No one does. And one day it won't be enough to have that just be implied, I'll have to say it like it is. And she won't like it. She already doesn't like it, no matter how she tries not to show it through her...big blue eyes.  
  
*He licks his lips and then he takes a sip of his drink again.*  
  
 **Olivier:** Well. You know technically, she did literally too. Her blood, your veins, no details, please and thank you. *Each he highlights with his hand waving right, left, right, left, and head going left, right, left, right. There's was an excited language, he thinks bemused. (Better that than dwell on what Daniella disliking it might mean).  
  
Big-blue-eyes, ahuh, sure. She did have those, to be sure. Smirk flicking up,* As I said, curiosity killed the Kat. Of course she doesn't like it. Good intent or not brother, you do kind of super-cede the government she works for.   
  
*Her trying not to show it was...interesting though. He didn't have the impression that Daniella was one to hide her thoughts. After all, she stalked up to him and admitted freely she liked it when his brother drank her blood, didn't she? So why hide this?  
  
He was close to reaching for another glass.* Are you trying to change her mind?   
  
**Antonio** : Oh brother, when have you known me to brag? *His grin was cheeky, and he winked, knowing that both of them knew the true answer to that question. Antonio chuckled and took another brief drink.*  
  
Yeah, that I do. *Another reason to be wary. Not that he didn't have the majority of the government in his silk-lined pockets, even still.* No, I wouldn't change one hair on her head. *He shook his head.  
  
Then he paused before he chuckled again.* Oh this is gonna end disastrously isn't it?  
  
 **Olivier:** Leave it to you to assume the worst, Antonio. *His brother had a decent point though. Olivier spoke to prevent himself from thinking, and now hums for the same reason, three melancholic little notes. It was all he could take before breaking into the actual lyrics.* If it don't end in bloodshed, it's probably not love.  
  
*Had he accused his brother of looking on the worst side? Right, okay, hypocrisy might love him as much as irony then. He thumbs the edge of the counter and shrugs a shoulder.* I think if you assume that then, yeah, it will. But if you assume the best...it probably still will but, *he chuckles, folds his arms back on his chest and digs the bar into his back,* I think all that's guaranteed is...fireworks. Not as if you won't enjoy the ride, yeah? *He arches an eyebrow at his brother again, still slowly.* Besides, you're both so stubborn I genuinely don't know who would break first.   
  
*Break. Ha. Nice way to put 'try to kill the other.'*   
  
But I'm gonna bet her, just because positive motivators tend to win out over negative ones or in this case... *He gestures with eyebrows, palm, fingers - anything but his mouth actually forming the words 'positive morality.' *   
  
**Antonio** : I'm being realistic. It's kept me alive for a quarter of a century, it does me well. *Olivier had a point though, Antonio supposed, and it was difficult to admit so. Assuming the worst was only going to make it become worse easier. But even if he assumed the best, all he'd get was what? Disillusionment? Pass.  
  
Fireworks though, those he could enjoy. He was just surprised that Olivier didn't break out into a high pitched pop song famous almost two decades ago.*  
  
And you just get to sit back and watch don't you? *He smirked after gulping down the last of his drink in the glass.* Well if you can manage to tear yourself away from your girlfriend long enough that is.  
  
 **Olivier:** *It's also the attitude that's put him in danger since birth, but he wouldn't say that right now. One battle at a time, he thinks with a tiny sigh to himself.* Oh no, I'm intimately involved. As is my girlfriend, thanks. *He took the bottle back, spinning around the counter to go and put it away after easily refilling Antonio's glass.  
  
He'd never tended bar himself, but that didn't mean he couldn't have swag with it. Like Violet Sangford. Though just like in the movie, he couldn't think of anyone involved that qualified as "Coyote Ugly."* See, mio fratello, if it turns into war, then you know I've got your back. And if it doesn't, *he slips his glass away too,* then hey. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with how everything's worked out lately.   
  
*And he was. Actually, more than thrilled, he was proud. Lips flicking, he adds,* But you know I'm not nearly as comfortable as you with it all. Might be nice to have an ally. As a solo artist, I'm about as effective as JC Chasez, not Justin Timberlake.   
  
**Antonio:** That's not creepy at all. *Well, when he thought about it more thoroughly, it made sense that his brother were involved given that there was no one else that Antonio could talk to about this. Not that he particularly felt the urge to speak, at the moment, but if he ever needed to he knew where he could go.  
  
He mumbled an appreciative 'grazie' as Olivier made sure to refill him before putting the bottle away. Three small drinks seemed a decent enough amount for the time...the wee hours of the morning time.  
  
And then his brother started speaking in his own language- he did recognize Justin Timberlake though that was a plus- but at the end, with his eyebrows still raised and lips pursed, he nodded quickly and clapped his brother on the shoulder* Yeah...of course. *He nods.*  
  
 **Olivier:** Di niente. *The Italian 'you're welcome' answers just as softly, their customary acknowledgments something both due to the manners Remington drilled into their heads and between them alone.   
  
He stills as his hand is clapped and then chuckles in light tease at the three word answer. Oivey. Well, if ever there was a sign something was deep in Antonio's heart.* Elaborate. I don't know what to respond to first. *He jokes, rubbing his lips with his thumb and index finger.*   
  
I like her, you know. *Playful,* I think she's good for you. Lord knows, *he looks skywards, making the sign of the cross (just as his brother wore, he could see, and it made him smile),* I need the help.  
  
No, seriously though. I should get to know her better. Without a hundred of our closest underlings around. *His lips quirk.*  
  
 **Antonio:** A-ha. *He rolled his eyes as his brother spoke up to God, was the old man listening up there anyways?, and then took another drink. Antonio had never thought of Daniella as being a positive influence or good for him but then again he tried not to think too deeply about it. He suffered from migraines, didn't need to add to them.*  
  
Says the man who introduced her to me. *His eyebrows rose with his smirk.* No wonder I'm concerned.  
  
  **Olivier** : Yeah, well. *He inclines his neck, a jerk of sheepish agreement.* I met her a grand total of three times before you did. And speaking of positive influence. *Eyebrows and hand gesture the obvious point: Daniella had contacted him in case he knew something about Nadia...which he then made it his mission to find out, prompting the Gala events. Subsequently, the criminal, murderous organization who took her was gone. Wasn't that positive?  
  
He chuckles drily.* But are you concerned then? *A swallow revolves in his throat; he knew his brother hated (as much as he relished) uncertainty.* I can say...she seems to make you happy. So that I like.  
  
 **Antonio:** She does. *He tried to admit that as casually as he could, knowing that it was anything but casual, and then quickly continued before Olivier gave him sad puppy eyes that'd look two seconds away from saying a drawn-out 'aww'.*  
  
But I am concerned as to why a beautiful young woman with no desire for my wealth, influence, or power would tolerate a business she doesn't agree with. *He had many ideas, and not all of them particularly pleasant.*  
  
 **Olivier:** She's in the President's office. *He shrugs slowly, though his brothers quick reply had made him smile. Yes, she did make him happy: the eyes she gave him attested to that.* So she has a deep want to serve the people of France, yes? After what we just helped Harper take down...maybe it's just she believes she can take care of the country from your side too or even better. I mean. *He licks his bottom lip quickly,* Not as if she's proven herself to be particularly...vanilla before.  
  
*Though Olivier personally was a purist. How did one take the perfect flavor and improve upon it? You can't fix perfection. (But you could try, and dammit if his balancing act wasn't necessary.) He teases instead, this reference one he was happy to say he knew his brother would get,* We do not choose the one's we love.   
  
**Antonio:** Or maybe she wants to serve the people of France by getting rid of me. *He holds back a snort; countless of people have tried already. That's not to say he wouldn't enjoy the challenge if it were true.  
  
He swirls the drink in its glass before taking another quick gulp. No definitely not 'vanilla' in the slightest. That was both where the allure stemmed from and the caution.*  
  
Okay, Jaime Lannister. *He shook his head.* Maybe normal people can't, but I can.  
  
 **Olivier:** Okay first. *He held up one finger.* It is concerning, that saying she might want you dead, made you smile. *Not surprising, but concerning. His brother never had liked "normal" life, as he continued to prove. Ha, see! He had gotten the reference.  
  
Jaime Lannister though...well! He'd never defenestrated an eight year old but at fifteen he had done similar. And hadn't he been the same systematic disappointment to dear old Remington that Jaime was to Tywin? From villain to fan favorite, ha, ha, ha.* Second, I meant her too. She's likely as befuddled and mind-fucked about it.   
  
*Second, tolerating the business and being with you don't have to be the same act. He almost says it. They weren't for him. But his brother was barely in a listening mood for the -one- discussion.* Do you really think that, though? That you can just ... pick and choose who matters?   
  
*His lips flick.* I thought you didn't believe in a God.   
  
**Antonio** : Take it up with my therapist. *He waved his hand away dismissively. He wasn't smiling because he was happy, he was smiling because it would be fun. Harmful, potentially fatal for some, but fun. And this is why his brother thought he was crazy. Maybe he was, his therapist refused to say either or. He supposed he did have the makings of a psychopath but could psychopaths admit that's what they were? Huh.*  
  
Of course I can. *He shrugs.* You matter, Nonna matters. I picked that. I picked to stop caring about father. I am the master of my own destiny, no one else. *He took a drink.* Certainly not some all-powerful deity.  
  
 **Olivier:** Right, well see the thing is. Teresa won't tell me anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and what not. *Not that he had really tried. It was on his advice his brother was going at all. All the woman had said was she'd be 'happy to help him too.' Which, yeah, he wouldn't mind a few sessions -- certainly liked to talk enough, but it wasn't what he needed.   
  
Teresa was loyal, yes, but he didn't need a shrink to explain where his misgivings on Stefanie's condition came from. Remington D'Grey: responsible for taking him from his mother and systematically trying to ruin he and his brothers' lives, vampire and father. Not to mention the fact he'd been craving blood half his life to a literal murderous point. Gee. Always went back to the parents, didn't it? Boooring.   
  
Speaking of Daddy Dearest. He blinks. The last statement he ignored, too used to his brother's denial on the matter, but what he said about Remington made his eyebrow arch. Throat dry, he asked casually as if it didn't matter,* Right, okay. So, you saying you could just pick to stop caring about me or Nonna too?  
  
 **Olivier:** To be sure. *Though he suspected it was a different sort of attachment that ensured Teresa's loyalty. Arching his eyebrow, he points out sardonically,* Not as if she's known you since you were a newborn, or anything.   
  
*What's that? Sentiment over money? Perish the thought. He personally thought Antonio paid that much only to prove his own affection without knowing how. The same reason Olivier did enjoy the party the former evening: he knew what his brother was saying with the extravagance.* That "probably not" relieves me more than it - ha, "probably" should.   
  
*The words sent a chill up his spine as his brother continues. Mostly because he knew now beyond shadows of doubts that he could not say the same: anger, yes, he could be angry with Antonio -- but not care? Never.* Pretend to. *He echoes it, cold.* So glad to know you could pretend to not care. Tell me, would it be long enough a pretense to rip my heart out - or would you feel remorse with your hand still in my chest squeezing it?    
  
 **Antonio:** I was trying to avoid the archetype of women as mother figures but sure *he waves his hand again, amused but also smiling* that as well.  
  
*He tilted his head after he finished the drink and then turned in his seat to face Olivier directly, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.* You think that low of me?  
  
*He swallowed a lump in his throat, wish it could melt into strong liqueur, and then laughed, shaking his head briefly and pursing his lips.* If I say the former would you stop trying to 'fix' me, dear brother? *He clapped Olivier's shoulder and then stood, reaching for his jacket.* Because I've told you already, you're wasting your time.  
  
 **Olivier:** Ah, my apologies. *He waves that off as easily as his brother did, despite the fact it wasn't the point he'd been trying to make. But then, if his brother truly was thinking about that archaetype, he got the point already without Olivier's help. It made his throat clench a second to see his brother actively avoiding all references to a mother figure; denying he needed one so strongly now it appeared their mother hadn't given him the option to even want one.   
  
His nose wrinkles at the question, but he answers softly.* On the contrary, dear brother. *Unblinking as he meets his gaze, he straightens as his shoulder's clapped.* I'm just trying to understand what pretending not to care grants you salvation from. *Fingers wiggle over his arms, toying with his cuff links. Then he chuckles at the back of his throat, trying to force it out before it catches.* I'm not trying to fix you. *He shrugs a shoulder, even though really it was a strong possibility that Daniella might be doing that.*   
  
There's nothing wrong with you. *Nothing that Remington didn't engineer, foster and praise anyway but -- even if Antonio claims not to care about that any longer, he knew it had been as much anger as anything that led to killing their father. Ire was far from indifference.* But even if I was, and even if it is, I can't think of a better way to waste my time. It's not exactly precious anyway.  
  
 **Antonio:** Oh no? *He tilts his head, smirking.* And what do you call what you've been trying to do for...oh, I don't know *he waved his hand in the air as if trying to get a better grasp of the time* the past decade?  
  
*Antonio had to hide a snort as Olivier said there was nothing wrong with him; it was clear that his brother himself didn't believe that particular statement. Or rather, it had a huge asterisk by it detailing the fine print. Something that would read 'nothing that is your fault anyways'.*  
  
That's completely normal and not alarming in the slightest, brother. *He dusts the jacket off even though he knew there was not one centimeter of dust anywhere in this bar, before draping it over his arm.*  
  
 **Olivier:** That would be, *he drums his fingers along the bar again as he says matter-of-fact,* trying to save you from yourself. Failing miserably at it, that too. Probably, *ha, he was using that word a lot today,* because I'm incapable of doing it for myself.   
  
*It was bitterly spoken, but true. Without his brother he'd have long ago succumbed to urges that..well, were the exact opposite of "completely normal and not alarming." How funny it was, how goddamn hilarious, that Antonio seemed to think he already had. Irony again. Fickle bitch, irony was.*   
  
Oh, *he chuckles, sincerely as ever because well - he learned to do that a long time ago,* how the fine-crafted Romano's on the other foot. *He licks his lip, genuinely amused.* Aren't you the one always telling me I'm not normal and to get used to it?   
  
**Antonio:** *Probably. He snorted, shaking his head but he didn't want to admit that he was in any danger from himself of all people. After all, Remington's great tragedy was that he cultivated, rather raised, his own demise. Antonio would not fall prey to the same irony.*  
  
I am. *He agreed easily, nodding his head with a smirk.* But given that you're constantly trying to be normal, I thought it right to tell you this isn't the right way.  
  
Anyways, lots to do today. I won't keep you.  
  
 **Olivier:** Through sarcasm. *He amends drily, lips twitching up in genuine amusement again.* I'm not Stef, Tonio. You didn't need to use reverse psychology. Like to think I'm a little cleverer than that. At least a little.   
  
*He closes the cash register again, waiting as his brother finishes his drink and otherwise doesn't move. He was looking too carefully not-quite-at-his-brother-so-he-wouldn't-feel-on-the-spot. Then again, didn't his brother love the spotlight?  
  
His chin lifts, like he started a nod backwards and forgot to keep going as he adds,* Lots? *Casually, with his eyebrow still arched,* Need any help?    
  
 **Antonio:** You know you just implied that you were cleverer than her, right? *He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows to show that he wasn't likely to forget that anytime soon. Endlessly filling his arsenal with any sorts of weapons he could find. Even now, with his brother, he couldn't get out of the mindset.*  
  
Depends. *He pauses for a moment and then raises his eyebrows* How's your stomach? *He smirks and then exhales as he sees the look on his brother's face.*  That was a joke.  
  
 **Olivier:** And...(?) *There should be a question mark on the end of his one-work inquiry, but just for show, as he keeps it going long enough for him to figure out what his brother meant to imply. A scoff covers his need to breathe. He finishes the thought.* You're going to threaten to tell her? *He chuckles, though he wasn't really that surprised. It was ingrained in his brother to notice potential ammunition for blackmail, after all. Even minute things (that wouldn't be minute to Stef).* Go ahead. *He throws his hand away from him, wiggling his eyebrows too.* She already knows that's what I think. I enjoy when she tries to prove otherwise.   
  
*He was relaxed again, dammit. His brother had been leaving, and he stopped pressing him instantly. One of these days he was going to have to get over being afraid that Antonio would walk out on him and actually ask what he meant. It wasn't cowardice, he argues with himself: he knew what he'd said had stuck in Antonio's mind. It would fester. Just like the possible interpretations of how he could use Olivier's statement on being cleverer than Stef: his brother would notice and ruminate over it and baby steps, right?  
  
(He already had gone too far once and for the sake of both of their Italian vanity, and okay maybe his heart too but obviously his hair--he wouldn't do that again easily.)   
  
Then he grimaces, nose wrinkling up as he retorts first,* A funny one, really. Hilarious. It's strong, as you very well know, *what hadn't he handled seeing by now?,* unless you meant hunger - which, then I'm really curious to know if you mean Dani's into threesomes. Thought she didn't do brothers? *His lips quirk up, but he fetched his own jacket too, putting it back on over the cufflinks he disliked. Slipping a hand into the pocket, he tilts his head at his brother, unmoved.* Seriously. Do you want help?   
  
*This time it was want, not need. Because of course...Antonio D'Grey did not need anything.*   
  
**Antonio:** One day she won't try, she'll succeed and I'll be sitting back, laughing my ass off at you. *He chuckles, just thinking of the image he had presented itself and then shook his head as Olivier asked if he meant feeding. He didn't obviously, but the reminder and then the mention of Daniella made him wish that's what he was heading for.* She might but I don't share.  
  
*Tilting his head as Olivier insisted, he watched his brother through narrowed eyes before inclining his head.* Sure, come on then.  
  
 **Olivier:** No? *His fingers toy with a few coins he'd forgotten were in his pocket. It was a tease of a question, especially as he continues,* You know, Stefanie mentioned she'd had to refrain from a taste herself - if Dani's so willing... *Oh, this plan was backfiring. There was a mental image to contemplate. And he didn't even -enjoy- the vampirism inherent, but damn, those two.* You still wouldn't share? Greedy bastard.   
  
*He buttons the bottom button, still ignoring the fact that his brother had said he was just going to be laughing his ass off at him. Even as he follows him (something he always seemed to be doing), flicking the juke box off with his finger-snap, he pauses with eyes equally narrowed. Antonio had given him a look like he was on display at a zoo and must be carefully considered, as if he hadn't proved his own loyalty time, and time again. (But he couldn't blame his brother, not one bit.) You going to tell me what you're up to? *He half-teases,* Rigging a horse race? Court case? Election? Accepting an award and afraid I'll take pictures of some silly hat they give you?   
  
**Antonio:** *He contemplated that briefly. The image was one that was tantalizing enough to enjoy, much more than the simple one of Stef getting one on Olivier, but after he'd pictured it Antonio shook his head.* Nope, not even then.  
  
*Antonio shrugged, checking his watch again and smirking as Olivier caught up, turning to walk out of the bar.* Rigged races are on Thursdays *he teased before shrugging* a shipment got here. Weighed and inspected at each port by my men, they open it up here- empty. *His eyebrows lift* Still weighing what it's supposed to.   
  
**Olivier:** *Gold key fumbling between fingers still feeling the evening (and not his anxiety at Antonio's words, no) he takes a few seconds longer than usual to lock up behind them. Two keyholes and three spells were standard procedure: now he casts a fourth. If someone was targeting D'Grey establishments, they had no way of knowing presently the lengths he was going to insure his bar as a safe haven.   
  
With a light chuckle,* Ah, right, right...forgot. *It actually was amusing to him that his brother would keep a schedule (even if not that strictly). After all, he was supposed to be the orderly one to his brother's loose cannon - the level-head to his brother's impulse. Yet when it came to time-management, Antonio might as well have tracked the day to milliseconds whereas he'd missed a train once up the Montmartre and Antonio had never let it go.  
  
He adjusts his jacket as he turns, a chill going down his spine.* Someone stole it? *He frowns. It had to be a magical person too, if they'd had the box weighing what it was supposed to. Unless...* The box could have been lined with weights. *He offers, knowing it's feeble but a possibility. (And considering their small number of magical employees, he wanted to ensure they didn't jump to any conclusion.)* Where was the last port it had been opened up at before now?    
  
 **Antonio** : It appears so. *Much like before, his annoyance was accompanied with a sudden and possibly entirely inappropriate glee. Olivier liked the peaceful direction that things were going and Antonio did too for the most part, but sue him for being a little excited over potential entertainment. After all, no one stole from Antonio D'Grey and got away with it.*  
  
Maybe. *Antonio allowed, shrugging.* We'll have to see. I told them to leave everything as is until I got there, just wanted to give you your birthday present beforehand. *He tilted his head as if to say 'see? My priorities are in order.' Somewhat .*  
  
Marseilles-Fos Port, came from Nicaragua.   
  
**Olivier:** *This time he didn't even bother telling his brother to dial back the glee; he'd save his breath for when his brother was smiling over knowing who the culprit was and planning half-deserved vengeance in twice-as-spectacular fashion. Didn't mean he had to look at it though; he was glad they were walking and he could easily turn his head away.   
  
Smirking as he sees the look his brother gave him (though actually he was glad to know that), he nods.* Aw. That warms my heart to hear, Tonio. *Marseilles-Fos port. So it had only been on the river Seine for the last week of the journey without being inspected. Yet still, he knew it would have had to travel through Lyon (if he remembered the map right in his head), and that Antonio would have already been informed if they'd been boarded along the way in some odd fashion.   
  
Unless the shipment was thrown into the river or one of the employees was currently lining their clothes with it (and he doubted that, only by the volume likely per shipment: it took a month for a ship to reach them from Nicaragua) -- then likely as not, it was emptied at the terminal in Marseilles a week ago. Which meant they'd had plenty of time to get away...  
  
...and also meant that they had intimate knowledge of their routes down the river, to empty a shipment more than three-quarters of the way. He clenches his teeth and says first, lightly as ever,* Nicaragua? Port of Heads, yeah? *Well, Puerto Cabezas. He never would stop chuckling over that name. Call him childish if you must. He rubs at the back of his neck.* You've got...Tessa, overseeing those shipments, right? *Though that didn't help. He couldn't imagine anyone actually dumb enough to take her on.* Is Christian on the guard? *He shrugs a shoulder,* Can't see him taking an entire shipment but he *does* have a habit so...  
  
 **Antonio:** Correct. *He nodded, unsurprised by the information his brother remembered. When Olivier had agreed to team up with him to take their father dow n, Antonio had offered him an equal partnership. 50/50 in all things- decisions, profit, responsibility, but Olivier had declined. He didn't want to be capo alongside his younger brother and Antonio had been both disappointed and relieved.  
  
Even still, you would think Olivier had a deeper hand in the business judging by all the information he possessed.* Christian receives a quarter of his earnings in his favorite habit precisely to avoid sticky fingers.  *Or rather, to avoid the loss of fingers.*  
  
It's 5 million euro worth of product. Pocket change *he waved his hand* but still alarming. *He stopped on the curb and waited a few seconds for his car to drive up.* Age before beauty *he gestured to Olivier to get in with a smirk.*  
  
 **Olivier:** Clever. *That he hadn't known. Amusedly tilting his head, he can't help but ask,* Do you give him an employee discount too? *His voice trills along the question, amusing himself and distancing himself from the reality that his little brother was keeping drug addicts loyal to him by continuing their addiction. If he treated it like a game, he almost forgot.  
  
Oh, he knew the arguments. That their products were varied, some less addictive than alcohol, that it was peoples choice to take them in the first place, and only illegal in half the world anyway; that opiates were the largest export of a dozen countries and they were single-handedly supporting the economy, which would bankrupt them to lose -- etc, etc. All things he learned before from Remington; all things his little brother took to heart.   
  
Here was the simple problem: the game was Monopoly, sooner or later everyone ended up behind bars (though in reality only those on Park Place got their get-out-of-jail-free-cards) and the only way to win was eliminate all else. Made for a lonely, greedy world -- and kept people in abject poverty (let alone those in war-torn societies) exactly where they were.   
  
His problem with this? Yes, Antonio was right: they weren't normal. Sue him for thinking that Superman's strength with bloodlust doubling as kryptonite didn't give you the right to make humanity slave to your whims. Let alone actual slaves, but he digressed. Antonio paid every one of his employees. (But not all of his buyers did).*   
  
Pocket change. *He snorts, climbing in and saying under his breath,* Not to those in Nicaragua. *But he turns around and adds light as ever,* You know until yesterday you were insisting we were the same age for a month, and now I'm old?   
  
*He scoots over to let his brother sit and resists the urge to reach for the drinks. Waving his hand, he waits until they're underway before he asks offhand,* So go on then. You must have a theory. Astound me.   
  
*A theory, sure. Whomever stole from his brother had to be someone he knew -well- though - so he was praying for a different theory than that. He tilts his head, brows furrowing.* Pocket change. *This was under his breath.* Curious. Small enough to not be a red alert, but big enough to get your attention.   
  
**Antonio:** *Of course, Christian worked for him, that came with benefits and getting his product cheaper was only one of those benefits. Antonio could tell however that Olivier was making one of his bitter jokes in an attempt to feel better so he let the question go unanswered which was an answer in itself. He climbed into the car after his brother, pretending he didn't hear that mutter and then tapped against the side of the car to tell the driver to start.* Not old, just older.  
  
*He lowered his sleeves again and then answered.* I do but it's not necessarily astounding. *He shrugged* I'm waiting on a call from Santos to ask if that hooded vigilante is still stirring up trouble for him.  
  
 **Olivier:** An important distinction to be made. *Not old, just older. By about eleven months, a little less. He chuckles, as really he'd just been thinking that it went with his brother's "I Win Everyone Else Loses" mentality. Or in Olivier's case, they were allowed to tie. He flicks his lip across his bottom lip at the thought as his brother continued.   
  
A hooded vigilante, how quaint. Olivier stuck his tongue out in distaste now. If there was one thing they agreed on it was that such were a nuisance to both of them: such people followed no laws, were often as evil as those they fought, and stuck to no code of ethics. Running his hand across his neck, he asks, genuinely curious,* They'd have had to go a long way -- unless you meant to send that shipment to New York next? Though even that's...troublesome, if they're hitting both of you. *More evidence that the person knew their dealings intimately.   
  
Still, he couldn't help but point out,* Of course. Santos is a dick.   
  
**Antonio** : True, but it appears this...Sagittarius has friends in high places. MI6 and Interpol high. *Then again, so did Antonio. Still, it was just a theory, based on very few facts. He would have time to fact gather now. He fixed his tie before he continued.*  
  
Of course he is. But as long as he remains in power, that means very little. *Fingers crossed that changed soon! Maybe then Antonio could even help pick up the pieces, and add to his own business.* That's wishful thinking though, something easily fixed. No, so far it's looking like an inside job.  
  
 **Olivier:** Do you have reason to suspect he's come to Paris, then? *Genuine concern crosses his face. Hunters and vigilantes were just daily business, but if this one had a name and two cities fearing him already with Interpol connections then -- it was at least worrying about.   
  
Not smirking about. Oh, his brother. What -was- he going to do with him? Yet he finds himself smirking too, tilting his head.* A hooded killer and thief, with a personal vendetta for God-knows reason. Easily fixed. *He chuckles, shaking his head to himself and then drops his hands to his thigh, patting once. His words were still casual.* An inside job, yeah...though that doesn't explain why they were sure to hit a shipment worth enough that you'd notice. If they were just going to sell and make a profit on the side...  
  
 **Antonio:** I know he's been in hiding for the better part of half a year. But the chatter's been absent any mention of suspicious characters in the streets. If he's here, he's very well hidden.  
  
*He tilted his head as he looked at Olivier while he delineated the problem.* Yes, easily fixed.  
  
*He taps his fingers against each other and then leans forward* If they were going to redistribute it, they'd already done so. Nothing like that has happened in the country. Not unless they have the manpower and the influence to move it into another country and into small enough sells to go unnoticed.  
  
That's why I thought that vigilante first. He doesn't steal shipments from Santos, he destroys them. But usually in dramatic fashion, this was much more subdued which would also make sense given that he's been in hiding and relatively quiet...but the shipments get here cloaked so they look like furniture and machinery. Someone knew what they really were, and the route it was taking. That's not easily obtained.  
  
 **Olivier:** *He was following with ease, which would have bothered him a few years ago. Back when he was semi convinced he could get out of here. He would have, too, if it wouldn't have been abandoning his brother and besides - there were worse ways to look after France. Nothing was simple, nothing was black and white -- ha, it was "shades of D'Grey", and a lot more than fifty of them at that.   
  
Tilting his head he nods very slowly.* It could be he found a partner on the inside to have. Explain why it wasn't sold in the country, but wasn't exploded either. *He presses his lips together and leans his head back into the leather. Hard.*  I thought, *yes he was grumbling,* we were supposed to have a break. It'd been going so well.


	3. Cease Interviews, Monsieur No-Wits

**Amalie:** Bonjour, Etienne! Nous sommes ici avec le acteur populaire, Jean Paul Doom. *She turned from looking at the camera to the actor she was interviewing, smiling and simultaneously wishing she was anywhere but here right at this moment. Actors, musicians, fluffy out-on-the-city pieces; she was frankly sick and tired of them. But of course, given that she was so young and beautiful (of course she was), they kept her away from the real cutting edge stories. Like the fact the police had taken into custody a dealer alleged to be working for D'Grey.  
  
Speaking of the devil, or rather the devil's brother, Amalie noticed out of the corner of her eye when Olivier appeared seemingly watching with vague interest. He wasn't the only one there; street interviews  with famous people tended to get a flock, someone had even brought a sign. Exciting? Not for her.  
  
When the interview was over she thanked Jean Paul for his time, declined his offer for lunch sometime and then let him deal with the autographs. Moving away, she took off her earpiece and gave it to Alexis,  smiling as she gave her usual praise 'brilliant and astounding'. It wasn't that difficult to hold a microphone and smile at the camera, but she digressed.*  
  
On location visit? *She remarked after she had grabbed her coffee and approached Olivier.* This is a surprise. Should I be asking who died?  
  
 **Olivier:** *It had become old hat to melt into a crowd, appear unnoticed and simultaneously from nowhere. (Okay, the hybrid instincts helped a bit). His gaze roams through the crowd, leveling eyes astonishingly blue at a crowd of female hopefuls with blasé attraction, looking for telltale signs of one paying attention to him with concern. None did; those who saw him leaning on the store bench looked at him with hunger, unaware of the danger in such a look. He had the look of a man that would take what he wanted, do anything to get it (and that wasn't entirely incorrect). The lure of demons in the dark had always been hidden behind pretty masks. If he went where those blondes minds were judging by the eye-fuck, he'd be determining mentally their level of edibility in an entirely different way. Might put some off. (Certainly was causing trouble in paradise, yes he went there, with one gorgeous psychotic blonde already.)    
  
Actually, he was wrong. That lifts his chin, as if starting a nod and smirk but pausing from embarrassment. One saw him, the very one he was there to see. Maybe he should bother Antonio less about his glee. He liked that Ms. Avenier saw him, liked more that she kept cool - didn't give anything away - and continued her entirely professional interview. He expects she was used to keeping cool though. Was it just him, or was she two seconds from slapping that smug smirk off her interviewees' face the entire time?  
  
The press was his domain, the one part of the business he was fine handling for his brother when necessary -- not that Antonio didn't charm them all without a sweat. Still, what with the arrest's news compiling the theft (and so glee had grown, oi-vey) -- he had been curious in seeing what Daniella's best friend was covering.  
  
It amused him to see her condescension. She wanted to do another story. The arrest, he assumed, but the thing about Amalie was that in the very brief time he'd known her - he'd become highly aware of one thing. Scruples, she might not have, but a moral code of journalistic ethics she did. She was one of those rare people that actually believed the news reporter's duty was sacred. Any attempt to buy her would have lost her respect for him for good.  
  
(And in that moment he decided however naive Amalie was, he liked her.)  
  
Not moving off the back of the bench as she approached, as he expected she would, he unfolds his arms so he can take her free hand and bend to kiss it once in greeting.* Bonjour. *His smirk lifts, as he pulls back, like he was saying 'that was how you say hello.' Amused with the question nonetheless, he asks lightly as his arms hug his chest anew,* Thought telling the news was your job, Miss Avenier? I am merely an avid fan of Monsieur Doom, of course. I'm here for the autographing. *He nods to the actor, then whispers for show,* Actually, it's a gift for my brother; he's a big fan. *Nodding, smirk wide, as he doubted very much Antonio even knew who he was. Oh, brother.* But shh. *He taps a finger to his lips.* Don't tell, it'd ruin the surprise.   
  
**Amalie:** *She watched him kiss the back of her hand with brief amusement, relenting (now that she had coffee she felt much more agreeable after all) as she answered back* Bonjour.  
  
*Her eyebrows lift as she casts a single glance back at Jean Paul who was posing for pictures with the mob of fans and was momentarily disappointed to see Alexis looking hopeful even as she helped to pack the cameras in the back. She looked back to Oli, the staged whisper bringing an amused smile to her lips.* Antonio D'Grey a fan of Jean Paul Doom? I'll be quoting you directly.  
  
*She sat down next to him then, crossing her legs as she took another sip of the coffee to warm her bones. It was January, still cold.* It's a little sickening isn't it? Watching them be so care-free as everything happens? *She tilted her head as she watched the flock of women.*   
  
Not just here, but everywhere in the world. Tragedies occur daily and the se women are all desperately clawing at each other for a chance to take a picture with a man that will never remember their face. Sure, he might fuck one or two of them, Jean-Paul's just as famous for that, but my point stands.  
  
 **Olivier:** I'd ask you not to, *he idles, brushing a few non-existent particles off his sleeve so as to appear more...well, human,* but the truth is if that were published all it'd do is endear him as a teenager's heart-throb. *Besides, did his brother ever not enjoy the press on him? He loved the spotlight, actively sought it out. Olivier can't even blame him for it: Lord knew, he put on a hell of a  show. (Oh, the sassy bad-puns just were going to keep coming today, weren't they?) His brother was a star.  
  
Besides. No such thing as bad press. Remington had likely said that once upon a time. Well, he'd probably made it sound original. After all, D'Grey men abhor cliche, stood above the rest, had more to see than could ever be seen, more to do than could ever -- hold on, Lion King again. Damn you, Menkel -- now he could forgive the tenth doctor, it was just such a catchy song.   
  
He digressed. Looking curiously at her, even as she watches the hen flocks around the cardboard diva, he tilts his head.* More than a little sickening, in truth. *His smirk flicks up.* Though a bit of a heavy subject, when I haven't even had coffee yet.  
  
*There was something in her gaze; a hunger unlike the obviousness of the hens. Something that enthralls him and makes him wary; something that told him, he might have sought her out, but Amalie Avenier had wanted to be found. Licking and then biting his bottom lip in a quick flash, he chuckles at the last point.* There's value in a good fuck.   
  
*Now he does look over her shoulder at the man and back - just as quickly as before.* I just wouldn't hold my breath for it with that one.   
  
*He unfolds his arms and asks easily with a jaunty head-tilt,* Do you have leave for a break? A refill? *He points at the mug she held.*   
  
**Amalie:** *And she wasn't in the business of doing Antonio D'Grey favors, no matter her best friend's recent 'engougement' to the man. And even that didn't grant him that many favors. Just the favor of not being the direct target of a hex from her wand. Then again, she supposed her friendship-of-sorts with  Olivier put a stop to that before. Hmm, well that and she'd yet to be face to face with the man (she had ignored his invitation to Olivier's party to ensure it remained that way for as long as it could).*  
  
And here I assumed you ate heavy subjects for breakfast. *She took another sip and then amended* Figuratively speaking of course. *She restrains a chuckle by taking another sip because after all, it wasn't that funny (it was a little bit though).* Amen.*And she hadn't had one of those in ages. But what could one expect when it was men like Jean-Paul asking to take her to lunch?*  
  
I thought you'd never ask. If I have to stare at this a moment longer, I'll become the headlines instead of reporting it. *She stands once more and motions to Gaston, the sound guy, to head back to the studio without her.*  
  
  **Olivier:** They do go well with a frappachino, to be sure. Though I would be crucified,* aha, there was a joke Stef wouldn't appreciate,* if I didn't say I prefer cinnamon buns...  
  
*Or other, things, covered in cinnamon sugar, that too. He almost worries if it's too early in their friendship to joke about such things, but hey. She'd been the one to mention what he might eat literally. An eyebrow raise and wiggle makes for a better elaboration on his meaning though. Especially since he did run a constant risk of Stefanie eating him. (That was a joke too. Mostly.)  
  
Following her, his hands clasped behind his back and he tilts his head at her, nodding,* I can't deny I would enjoy such a sight, but...*His smirk quirks.* I suppose it would make me quite the bad friend. Unless if you want...I could ask my brother to keep it quiet for you?   
  
*It was a joke. (Mostly). Poise relaxed even as his fingers rub along his watch. Fidgeting was a constant problem with him. An external sign of his impatience and agitation would give his game away in a heartbeat. _Thanks, Dad. Not like I ever wanted to learn to play catch or anything._   
  
He clears his throat to clear his mind, hating how easy it was to recall what that man had said.* So. *As he holds the door open for her,* I have this strange feeling that though I was the one to seek you out, it's you who has the question for me. Go ahead and ask. Though if I'm wrong, I admit, I may be a bit, *he squeezes forefinger and thumb,* hungover. After last night, and all.  
  
*His smirk is lopsided for a moment as he points out.* I apologize if I don't recall seeing you, *he knew quite well she hadn't come, but was gracious anyways,* so many people it...*he drums his fingers on his thigh, lips lifting.* So easy to lose track.   
  
**Amalie:** More of a croissant girl myself. *She was not ashamed of how typical French that sounded. Amalie was proud of her nationality and her country (th ough she wished that others were far more respectful of their country so as to allow it to rule itself the way it was supposed to be run by government and the will of the people, not one power-hungry perverse- whoops, was she getting specific here?).*  
  
No offense but I'd rather not owe your brother anything. *At all. Ever. But she continued smiling as they went inside as he held the door open. Her smile turned decidedly less calculatingly-innocent and much more coy-amused as he says that she's the one with the question. Of course she had questions, she had many but apparently even that wouldn't stop Oli from noticing her absence.*  
  
I'm flattered I was missed at all at the party of the year. *She began first with a grin before taking the final sip of her coffee, so she could have another.* I had to send my deepest apologies for not being able to attend. *Of course she declined formally. Maybe it was an immature and spiteful thing to do, but D'Grey would have noticed each absence anyways.* My brother was doing some campaigning in Lyon and I simply couldn't leave him. *Well technically that had been earlier but then she had a very important date with Jack, Ben, Jerry, and Jose.*  
  
Happy Belated Birthday and may you have many many more.  
  
 **Olivier** : I understand. *He says with a small smile as he curls a hand around the back of the curvy metal-rimmed chair that looked to have been taken from one of the magic chalk drawings in Mary Poppins'. He pulls it out for her while he says,* Same reason I prefer pizelles, I imagine.  
  
*He signals for the barrista, waiting before he sits in his own chair. It enables to have his head turned at her simple, polite refusal of what he'd meant as a joke. He knew it was hypocritical of him, he knew it was over-defensive, he knew he'd started it -- but, he didn't like hearing his brother denied as trustworthy or worth aid. Even when she was right, because there was nagging feeling at the back of his mind, like something crawling up his spine, a bug maybe, if Flik could yell "you don't really know him at all" to anyone who listened to the rampant rumors.   
  
And yes, he knew Antonio spread at least half of them himself.    
  
Instead, he only adds light and agreeable,* He is much better a person to have owe you. *He waves this off though, pausing with his easy smirk back (years of practice) to order, waiting until she had before he returned to their topic.* Oh of course. I understand, family comes first. Though, please. *His lips quirk up once more.* Party of the year? Sounds so pretentious when it's only January. After all, I'll have to outdo him in return in December.   
  
*His wiggles his eyebrow as if he has a prayer.* Darnell's campaigning? *He asks interestedly, sounding as if they were old friends as he remarked on a man he'd never met. He folds his arms on the table leaning forward.* Following the uh, family footsteps then? *Though he was still smirking, it was a bit softer with sympathy now. He let's a moment pass before he says,* Good for him. But I apologize, Miss Avenier, I interrupted you from asking me whatever it is that's on your mind.  
  
*He waves a hand as if to gesture she should go ahead.*   
  
**Amalie** : *Amalie had not been 'graced' with a D'Grey pizelle that Daniella had spoken of. Indeed Amalie had joked to her friend if it was coated in the blood of their enemies but Dani only made some witty remark about blood-drinking that Amalie had instantly remarked as 'too much info'.  
  
Knowing that she should have just let that comment slide instead of speaking bad of Olivier's brother to his face (because there was no worse crime in the man's mind, an exaggeration, but she digressed), Amalie was fully prepared to give out an apology and instead found herself listening as she sat down to an allowing statement that maybe if Olivier were more manipulative could have been construed as purposefully generous and simultaneously sharp enough to bring about the end of that particular subject. As it was, Olivier wasn't, so to her it ended up sounding more...placating than anything else. Best not say that out loud however, all men had egos, and they were as fragile as most claimed femininity was.*  
  
Just repeating what I read. *Because of course, there was already an article in and running in the morning paper, and of course it was a sugary piece of fluff resembling cotton candy more than any actual decent writing. Any article that started out with 'Paris' most coveted bachelor' however, was bound to be a piece of shit. Amalie generally detested writing fluff, but she was now desiring an opportunity to write a 'fluff' piece full of the most subtle and underhanded of insults, the kind that slapped you in the face faster than a blink of an eye and that you required a few further repeats of the sake strike to really convince yourself you were being hit to begin with. Could she? She'd have to stop being asked to interview Monsieurs No-Wit and Small Dick, first of all.*  
  
Darrell, *she corrected quickly but with a genuine smile on her face. Darrell and her close, and presently making her and their parents so proud.* He is, running for Senator. I've already had to listen to his 10 year plan.  
  
*Not that it would matter, if the government continued not to be the citizen's choice after all. That had to be where the look of sympathy came from right? Or maybe it was 'losing' another family member to the dirty world of politics-in-France-right now. Well, was it naive of her to think that her brother could make a difference? Yeah, yes, it was.*   
  
Many things on my mind, always, like gears in a clock. *She smiles, bringing herself out of her multiple thought processes to focus on one.* But I suppose I do have one specific thing in mind which is to aaaask *she moves her eyebrows if only to mimic his own* what it is you know that you're hoping I might know more of?I can see it your eyes, all that information and knowledge is just swimming in that pale blue surface, and I just wanna pick at it with my quill. Go fishing. *She smirks.*  
  
 **Olivier** : Ah, and here I thought you were just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear. *The retort, sarcastic and good-natured slipped off his tongue. And okay maybe a little sassy, but he wasn't kidding about this hungover state-of-being...worse when he'd shared a drink with Antonio an hour before ... or was it two? The sun was too bright, that was really all he knew.   
  
But that wasn't uncommon for them, of course. Drinking (and now he didn't mean alcohol) regularly was beneficial in a hundred ways -- heightened senses, sharper memory, predominantly the increased speed and strength...but those heightened senses had downsides. Light-sensitivity being one of them. But hey! His skin didn't set itself on fire. So, see, it wasn't -all- bad. Why, he shouldn't be complaining at all!  
  
Huh. Hungover plus drinking might have made him a little more bitter today. Or maybe that was blood loss. He knew why he'd been eying those hens; he was hungry for a lot more than coffee. Caffeine was just a stop-gap.* Darrell, *he echoes her correction in amusement, hand lifting from the table to rest folded over his heart for a second as he adds,* my apologies.   
  
*Oh he'd known her brother's name, but it was better not to let that on. It insinuated a background check. Which was totally accurate of course, but maybe normal people didn't do that on friends. (Oh except yes they did, normal girlfriends do that all the time to guys, have their best friend do that 4-1-1 thing.)   
  
(He really wasn't bitter, he swears though.)* Good luck to him, then. *He adds, praying internally that wasn't one of the elections his brother would rig. Maybe he -should- talk to Antonio about it...but he didn't foresee that being a problem so much as telling him not to approach Mr. Avenier about bribing him or fixing the election for him as some kind of weird romantic gesture to Dani for her best friend.   
  
Seriously though, considering his girlfriend (hey, he was just repeating what he read in a certain article this morning calling her that) was in the government, he was pretty sure such a gesture would backfire.   
  
Speaking of which! He chuckles.* Go -- Merci, *he pauses to accept the coffee, and turns back,* --  fishing then. Though I must tell you, I'm not sure that counts as a specific question. I consider you to be more knowledgable than me on many things. *He takes a sip after a shrug, eyebrows making clear he omitted "a great many" on purpose there.* However this morning, I was only curious what cover story was going to grace your station's broadcast. I assumed you'd know more than any-one else. *He shrugs.*  
  
 **Amalie** : Given that that's shamefully how most reporters operate now, I won't hold that against you but no, Olivier, I will always tell you what you need to hear. *She lifts her chin before adding brightly, crossing her hands over the table and then leaning forward* It's how I excuse myself from being a tough-love capital-B, witch.  
  
*Darrell didn't need luck, apparently, according to him. Because he had skill, he had charm, he had good looks, and he had the fortunate characteristic of being born the son of two members of Parliament. The name was trusted, even if he currently was still just fresh blood.  
  
Ah, no mention of that particular body substance at the moment, it would take away her thirst. Amalie almost laughed; nothing would ever make her desire coffee less, ever.   
  
Hmmm, glorious coffee. She smelled it as a new cup was placed in front of her, the scent of the cafe au lait wafting up to caress her nose unlike the likes of anything she'd experience before. Maybe someone would compare anything characterized as a 'caress' to a lover's touch but she hadn't had a lover pay particular attention to her nose before and she hoped she never did.*  
  
Hmm. *She licks her lips after a quick sip, to acknowledge his not-question before being able to speak. Tongue free once more, she began.* You're a horrible flatterer, and potentially an even worse liar.  
  
*She grins and then shakes her head.* You know perfectly well who'd know better than I. But alright, it seems I'm not the only one fishing so I'll bite. Do you mean the cover story for one certain dealer who has apparently become 'silent as the grave'? *Oooh, that would hurt later if it turned out to be entirely too accurate. She hoped for the man's sake it wasn't so. They might be vermin of the underworld but they were still living.  
  
Then at the same time, they were still vermin and she had no mercy for cockroaches. Who was this man but a giant cockroach, feasting on sugar water and living in very dark and moist places?  
  
Eww. She was going to freak herself out.*  
  
 **Olivier:** I appreciate that. *And again, she turned his joke into a serious response. Or rather, she was joking too in the exact way he had -- bitterly sarcastically true ha-ha if-i-slash-we-don't-laugh-at-this-then-we'll-be-fucked. And not in that valuable way.   
  
On the other hand, he knew she was being truthful just by the fact she was there, and he did genuinely appreciate it. Maybe she was fishing, maybe he was, but still: he found immeasurable value in anyone being straight with him, unafraid of his last name. (Though really, he shouldn't have expected anything different from Daniella's best friend, should he have?)*  
  
Aha. *He coughs out a chuckle over a hot sip. Tongue running on the edge of the mug, he sets it back down, savoring the whipped cream on his lip before releasing his bitten bottom lip.* I am at that.   
  
*A horrible flatterer, a worse liar, too focused on unimportant things, yes, thank you Dad. You know, unimportant things like: religion, honor, morality, his brother's soul and happiness -- yes, he was always one to focus on the trivial. Of course in this case, he hadn't been lying. Should he point that out?*   
  
 Actually.  *He hears himself starting to before he thought about it, even knowing it would have just prompted another lecture about better-to-appear-ignorant-when-looking-for-information. Though whether from a want for honesty or to prove to her he wasn't that naive he didn't know.*  
  
Other reporters at your station who might be informed at hand, would do precisely what you just described: tell me what I want to hear. And one who is looking for advancement in the field, who has the ambition you do, *he left out the fact there was likely a psychological factor at work there too, as well as genetic: her parents had been the same way,* is going to go above and beyond what your editor tells you at any chance you get.   
  
*So he shrugs his shoulders now, knowing quite well he'd only proved he was a terrible liar.* Which means if there's anything I don't want to hear, that I need to know, you are in fact. *His lips lift.* Likely to be the most knowledgable.   
  
*He takes a sip of his coffee, listening evenly, expression unchanging even as she again, guesses correctly. Taking a moment to blow cool air against the lid of his mug, he watches curly-Q smoke rise before setting it down.* Silent as the grave? *He presses his hand into his chin, apparently astonished by the news.* That would be a poor cover story if it were one, you know. Rather gives away the ghost, doesn't it? *He almost chuckles again.* If you'll pardon the pun.  
  
  **Amalie** : *She licked a little foam off the top of her upper lip as she listened to him, declaring simply afterwards with a smack of her lips* That's much better flattery. *But was still flattery when it was the unexaggerated truth told honestly for the purpose of clarification and not to simply butter her up in hopes of coaxing something out of her?  
  
Well, how dare she limit the power of multi-tasking and duality? It could easily be both.* I agree, too dull to be fictional. *She nodded and took another sip and then exhaled.* As it happens, I do know something about it, something being kept out of public knowledge but *she raises her index finger off the mug to point at him* why wouldn't you already know that same information?  
  
 **Olivier** : It's not flattery. *He couldn't help himself the technicality.* Merely a truthful compliment. *If it had been flattery he would have intention behind it besides making her smile or telling her the truth.  
  
Then again, he wasn't so much of an idiot to believe it was unhelpful for him either. However bad a liar he was. Instead of commenting further, he flicks a piece of whipped cream off the top of his mug, sucks on his finger, and smirks in agreement. Too dull. She and Antonio would get along better than he thought, he thinks idly, releasing his finger.  
  
Contrary to popular belief, my brother doesn't tell me everything, he might have said. Of course that's because I don't ask, he might even have added. As Amalie points at him though, he shrugs an idle shoulder.* You give me too much credit. *Irony again, after the underhanded playful insults! (Except he probably did know what she did).* And assume my purpose is to gain new knowledge, not ascertain the tale. *Whatever she did know, actually, it probably was different than his own version. If you spread the same verbatim rumor, it was too easily traced.*    
  
 **Amalie:** *And there was the answer to her internal debate. She was so pleased he cleared it up, as well as calling it a compliment that her resultant smile was genuine. It spoke something rather dastardly of her that her first inclination was to believe her 'friend' (it was complex) wanted something from her than to speak well of her just for the sake of doing so. Or maybe it spoke of the people she called friends...which still spoke of her.*  
  
Hmm *she agreed again through a sip of coffee and a small nod. That was true, he could simply be fact-checking. That almost made her smile; she started out in the press as a fact-checker when she was 16. Had that really been 6 years ago?* Well *she began,* it appears the police got a tip-off and arrested notorious dealer Paulie Blanc on planted evidence. *She blew on the coffee to cool it.*  
  
Which makes sense of course, they've never been able to catch him with anything incriminating before yesterday. And it's an obscene amount. Managed to keep his arrest hush hush until this morning but he wants to sue the department for framing him.  
  
*She chuckled and then exhaled* Either way, its only a matter of time before all of this goes away, right? *She takes another drink as she watches Olivier from the top of her mug.*  
  
 **Olivier** : Sue the department? *Oh, that was an interesting fact. She'd left out, albeit graciously, the fact that his arrest would have occurred during his birthday party - where a hundred suspects had alibis that were anything but air-tight. He and Antonio could review the guest logs, but that many people? How hard would it have been to slip out and slip back?*  
  
Obscene. Good word. *He comments first, eyebrows making it fairly clear that "good" substitutes for "strong." His finger runs along the rim of the mug, nodding - though only to himself, as if he'd gotten something she'd said in a particularly illuminating way.   
  
Maybe he was a little better at this lying thing than he let on sometimes. How could he not be, after all? Remington might have found him out instead of Antonio (but that had been a moment of pride for his obviously-totally-normal-father) - but he still had helped his brother fool him for over a year.   
  
He clears his throat again behind a mug, amused at her last remark.* Now who's flattering who? *An eyebrow wiggle over another sip, as he contemplates that.* Though it is nice to see someone still believes innocent until proven guilty.   
  
*Actually, it was the "proven" part he was sure both of them were disagreeing with -- as Blanc was notorious for a reason. A somewhat-largely-upwards-of-five-million-euro reason, too. Antonio's vigilante theory might not be so off then, though why a New York city hoodlum would come here, he wasn't sure.   
  
Olivier's problem was, well. If the theft and planted arrested were connected, they were systematically (and well-connected) attacking his brother's empire. Antonio would love it for five minutes (Olivier was the only one, remember, who wasn't bored by trivialities like peace) -- and then he'd respond, both in escalating fashion. He'd really rather war didn't break out yet again on the streets of Paris. Lord, how he missed Roma.   
  
...Okay, fine, that wasn't his (only) real problem. The real problem he had was that he liked Blanc behind bars (the man was disgusting), and he liked that five million euro of drugs weren't being sold right now. If it was pocket change, couldn't his brother just let it go? (Of course not, no one stole from him and got away with it -- goddammit, this was why this was the *wrong* way to bring this empire down).   
  
He bit his tongue. And then said calmly,* Perhaps. Though it would certainly be a bit harder for one if the media was making a commotion out of it.   
  
*Right, which was why they were being given cover stories. If Antonio even cared to get the man out, they'd need to get the right judge and need to - sure, sue the department, why not get yet more money out of the system on top of it?   
  
Except he had an inkling that wasn't why he'd said it to Amalie, so he adds quickly, blowing again at the puffed whipped cream as if it was too hot.* Not that anyone would be that careless with their safety. I am curious though, Amalie -- why do you say the evidence was planted?   
  
**Amalie:** Moi? Never. *She blows a strand of hair off her face with the same exhale of air she had cooled her coffee and then traced the rim of the cup with her pinky.  
  
Obscene was the exact correct word. It needed to be, to level the equally-as-obscene-but-entirely-appropriate charges. And given that the drugs were now evidence, they were confiscated, entered into the system, and then stored. And once it was stored in that warehouse, it really wasn't that difficult to make it disappear. Prevent any repossessing.*  
  
Firm believer in due process, yes sir. *One of the few anymore it seemed.* But yes, it's exactly why the station is running he was brought in for questioning this morning. *Though it was originally being thrown around that the police weren't releasing any information as of yet. It was scrapped instantly when Amalie made the very accurate comment that it would only allow tabloids to speculate maybe even correctly and when they were forced to admit than an arrest did occur, they'd look like incompetent fools.  
  
And the majority of the people working there were but she digressed.*  
  
Because a man like Blanc doesn't keep his product in his own home. *And a man like Blanc would have his product ready to be sold individually.* Because he's both a high class Machiavellian and a low-life creep who's way too clever to have been caught before. *And because the tip-off had gone through one of the few people left in the department that wasn't on Antonio D'Grey's payroll.*  
  
Not going to lie, usually when someone like him says he doesn't know how those drugs got into his house, its a ridiculous lie, but he seemed quite genuine, but who knows, maybe he was caught by the sheer brilliance and dedication of the Paris police department in conjunction with Interpol and its a step in the right direction, proving once and for all that you don't have to break the law to get justice.  
  
*Okay, her smile this time was because she couldn't keep a straight face by the end of that sentence.*  
  
 **Olivier:** *He chuckles at her "who me?" response, expression adorable.* You look like a mouse in the cookie jar. *The comment was idle, as he adjusts he takes another sip. Adjusting his watch, toying with the dial, he listens closely even as he appears distracted. (The only natural talent he had, considering his inability to stop fidgeting).   
  
Amalie made decent points, confirmed the "facts" as they were, continued to prove she was underselling herself when saying how "many others would know more," most of all, because of her last few remarks. His eyebrows pop up, clearing his mind of his brother. For a second, but that was a bit of a feat on this particular topic.   
  
He smirks, slow and wide.* Why. Miss Avenier. How could you have known he seemed quite genuine, unless you watched him be arrested?


	4. Casual Death Threats

**Antonio:** Bury them in paperwork and work on setting up a bail plea. That search warrant was falsified and I want you to prove it. *He paused for his defense attorney on the other line* When have you ever known me to take the easy way out? *He smirks as he pours himself a glass of whiskey, only to exhale and transfer the phone over to his other ear.*  
  
If he were actually stupid enough to get caught, I'd make sure of his one way ticket to prison, but as it  is, I need to talk to him so, get him out of there. *He paused again and then grin.* Oh hush, you know you love it, and you are very well paid for it. *He took a quick sip* Work your magic, get in touch with Perdeux, and call me after any immediate change.  
  
*He tapped the screen to end the call and then pocketed the device, speaking up without turning around* Do you have any hobbies Stef? There's other places you could be.  
  
 **Stefanie:** Is that any way to treat your guest? *Leaning against the open glass doors to the balcony, she shakes her head just once.* Honestly, you're well on your way to being as bad as Walder Frey. *She gave it fifty fifty odds that he understood her. Generous of her!*  
  
And miss, *her tone was accented by a hand lifting high, bright, and eternally false even as it was eternally smooth,* Antonio D'Grey in all his bad-capo glory? *She scoffs under her breath, arms folding over her chest. He knew very well why she couldn't just leave the premises, but she didn't expect him to understand - or care, whatever Olivier frequently told her. The truth was for the love of God, and all seven of them, and the old ones and maybe R'hallor too - she couldn't understand what it was about this man that had France in such a tizzy just for the mention of his name.   
  
She taps her lip, smirking as she continues.* Though if this is that, it leaves a lot to be desired. Charming a defense attorney, ...mhm, honestly, with all the hype I'd expect you to set their desk on fire, not drown it in paperwork.   
  
*An eyebrow cocks up.* Trouble already?   
  
**Antonio:** Don't hold your breath for a wedding here to prove you right. *Half of the time, Olivier and Stef spoke the language of 'geek' to communicate and Antonio could barely understand. Probably for the best. Olivier was still owed some privacy in his private life (quaint), something nobody else was awarded.  
  
*He turned now, glass halfway up to his lips.* Oh Steffie, if you wanted a lesson why didn't you just ask? *He smirks and then takes another drink before shrugging.* First lesson, you can't just set fire to everyone who annoys you, unfortunately. Any retribution right now would just prove them right, and I rather work this to my angle.  
  
*He plops down on his couch and then shakes his head.* Not yet, personally I hope it escalates a bit further.  
  
 **Stefanie:** Cute. *Now she slips away from the door, taking a step towards the desk in bemused curiosity, her hand dancing across her neck as if to remind him with ease she didn't need to breathe. Then she stills, eyes flashing abruptly, words dripping sickeningly sweet.* And just so you know, if you ever killed people at a wedding of mine, best man or not I wouldn't hesitate to rip out your throat.   
  
*Her words were brisk, her hand taking a book off the shelf and flipping idly through it.* And I already know how delicious hybrid blood is, babe. * _Death threats had become casual,  then?_ , she wonders at the back of her mind. Well, they'd always been -- it was just...now she actually could follow through.  
  
Speaking of which. Curious against her will as he turned, she looks up slowly from the book when he plops down.  Her nose jerks up in a wrinkle at "Steffie", but she lets it pass (for now). Then she snorts.* Oh of course you do. *Her hand falls to toy with a blonde strand.* Long as you're distracted you don't have to admit what's going on with Daniella. *She tugs on her hair-strand, licking her top lip as she looks at him.*  The caring about her part, not the sex. That I don't think anyone in a five mile radius could have gone without hearing.    
  
*Her lips quirk up as she adds brighter,* But go on. I'm fascinated. What angle would that be?  
  
 **Antonio:** If I ever killed someone at a wedding of yours, you wouldn't know it. At least not until after the honeymoon, I wouldn't want to deprive you of some good old fashioned newlywed sex. *God, thinking of his brother marrying Stefanie just did not compute for him. He and Olivier had been inseparable since Olivier had come to live with them and before that it had not been by choice. Got to hand it to their mother though, if there had been one correct thing she'd ever done it was leave the second time. Would she be the ill-fated guest invited to Olivier's wedding? Time would tell.*  
  
It seems you've delineated it quite nicely for me, actually. And it seems like you're the pot to my kettle today, because if we're going to talk about loud sex, Stefanie *he smirks, rising his eyebrows in her direction.*  
  
The concerned and appalled citizen being brutalized by an oppressive police force. *He took another sip.* I'll call for a reform soon, you watch.  
  
 **Stefanie** : See, I'd point out it's unlikely you could do a thing without me hearing it, *Her eyes were slits, cat's eyes over a princess' pout as she taps her ears,* but that's just challenging you to try.   
  
*My, my was that an angry little uptick in his heart rate she detected? Curious. Her eyes soften for a second even as she asks, crisp,* The image of me in a white dress that arousing, or is it the thought of your brother married is that alarming?   
  
*And in a blink of an eye she was behind where he sat on the couch, unfazed by her quick movement. She knew he wouldn't be (his father wasn't the only vampire she knew he'd spent his life with, and she didn't mean that bitch with the bad fire-engine dye job either) - she just knew he didn't like anyone being behind him too. Folding her arms across the leather, she perked her chin in her palm and tilted her head to be speaking close to his ear.* Have you been eavesdropping on your -brother-? Creepy.   
  
*Yeah, yeah pot to kettle still and what not but Daniella wasn't her sister. She'd only known the girl for a few months, however fast friends they'd become. Turning her head forward, eyes on the bookshelf and the book she'd dropped there, she continues nonchalant and smirking,* Delineated, yes. Approved, no. But, I suppose I've known you for half a decade now, it's all right to share the smut.   
  
*She drops her arm, from her chin, still leaning on the couch and frowns as veins flash around his eyes.* A reform? Why? *Drily,* Of course they need one but -- *her tone made it clear she meant 'one without you involved' but as that was pointless, she tilts her head still genuinely curious what that plan would be,* -- are you saying you're not satisfied only owning three-quarters of the system of due process?   
  
**Antonio:** You caught me, Stef. *He tilted his as he looked at her, his smirk widening*  I'm in a constant struggle to not throw you up against the wall. *He wiggles his eyebrows before he scoffs and then chuckled.  
  
And then his good mood was gone as she was now behind him. Rolling his eyes, he took another  sip and then he 'hmmed' before raising his finger.* Actively avoiding that, actually, but I refused to be forced out of my own home by your high-pitched mewls. So.  
  
*He smirked and chuckled again as she said they needed one and then hummed* Never satisfied. Curse of the time-lords *he lifted his head off the couch and tilted his head to look at her with another smirk.*  
  
 **Stefanie:** See, I knew there were some limits you held yourself to for Oli's sake. *She comments idly, even as the image of him grabbing her is still in the forefront of her mind. Her lips flick up. He hadn't specified of course: he could just as easily have meant throwing her against a wall to -kill- her for trying to take his brother (or whatever other reason, really, he seemed to have loads of them when it came to her and she had to admit? It was tiresome, but cute, how jealous he could be about Olivier.   
  
And whatever his feeling towards her, as irritating as Antonio could be -- she did like him. Rather, she genuinely wanted better for him sometimes than she thought he ever did for himself. Shrugging a shoulder as he tilts his head to look at her, a small smirk appears, crawling it's way across her lips.* Curse of the time lords. *She echoes this, and then lifts one hand, snaps her fingers and her lavender dress turned ivory. Her cardigan was still beige, but it worked. A reward, of sorts, she was teasing.* Just for knowing that.   
  
*And in another blink she was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, arms propping her behind him.* Just don't ask what the next step is, honey. *She winks and says in her best impersonation, chest popped,* Spoilers.   
  
**Antonio:** Don't make it common knowledge. *He wagged his finger in her direction and then leaned back again when she was in front of him again. Truthfully , and Olivier would hurt him if he heard Antonio say so, but Stefanie made a much better vampire than she ever did a human. There was actual bite to her bark now; much more believable and much easier to take serious.  
  
He chuckled as she sat in front of him now with her newly changed attire, mimicking River Song.* Naughty minx, how'd you know she was my favorite?   
  
*Well, it might also be because Antonio hadn't indulged in much t.v. over the years and because Olivier's doctor was the 10th one, Antonio needed to be as contrary as possible to his older brother especially during those pesky teenage years.*  
  
 **Stefanie:** I take that as an invitation. *She says first, rolling her eyes in time with his metronome of a finger admonishing her. It was light. After all, wasn't that only fair? She knew not to challenge him -- he clearly had to learn not to challenge her. Even in jest. Though she was quickly reminded of his penchant to play reverse psychology on her, narrows her eyes and taps a heel on the ground. The shoes were moccasins today: if she must be stuck inside, she was going for comfort, even if her feet didn't really ache the way they used to.   
  
Decidedly letting it slide (okay maybe that was due to smirking at 'naughty minx'), she replies,* I paid attention the last half decade while you were too busy running empires and what not. *She folds her fingers together, genuinely amused.* I know who Oli's favorites are so ... speaking of reverse psychology. *She gestures Antonio. Sometimes she felt a bit of a mirror image to this man, honestly. She shuffles her feet behind the table leg and continues, still idle.* If a reform helps you. Did you intend for Blanc to be arrested?


	5. My Cara

**Daniella:** You know, *there's a cigarette perched expertly between her teeth as she strings her words together without turning around (she knows who it is),* I think I might have to change my locks. *As she blows a cool circle of silver smoke in the air and swallows the burning cough so she didn't embarrass herself, she turns her neck alone away from the window. Her thumb taps the side of the rolled-up grey paper, tossing ash onto the little marble tray Lila made her when she was five, and she releases a little nicotine sigh,* Or I would, but it seems someone changed them for me. *Her pencilled brow arches, smirk small,* Came home today and there were all new brass locks and a shiny set of keys waiting for me -- and for you, it seems. Know anything about that?  
  
 **Antonio:** *He chuckled, a sound that could almost be described as sheepish and that in itself spoke volumes. Antonio watched her by the window, leaning against a threshold and then as if it was sufficient enough of an explanation, he offered* The press was particularly extravagant in their details and speculations of you at Olivier's party.  
  
*What was it that Olivier had said earlier? Might as well have painted a bullseye on her forehead? Or maybe that was the tiny conscience in his head with Olivier's voice.* After all, we matched. What a scandal. *It didn't top news of the arrest, however, that was still the major event of the moment.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Mm. *Before he actually said a word he laughs, in such a genuine way she exhales and turns her neck back to her window. Otherwise he'd see how wide her smile was. Nodding almost as absently and light as he sounds, she concludes,* Well, as long as you didn't neglect to make yourself a key then.  
  
*That was sardonic, the arched eyebrow still wiggling as she gestures him inside without moving; he certainly could let himself in if he could change her locks on her. Grinning, she adds rhetorically,* Were they? *Her hooded gaze casts to the newspaper on her coffee table, a photo of them both gracing the entertainment's section's lead page.* I hadn't noticed. Do tell?  
  
 **Antonio:** I'll leave the key right here if you want me to, I took it to lock behind me. *He was sincere about that much, even if he realized he might have stepped over his boundaries. For Antonio it was a miracle he recognized boundaries to begin with; it didn't mean it was a praiseworthy realization.  
  
He noticed the newspaper on her coffee table too. Smirking, and instead of picking it up to read, he recited it from memory.*  
  
'Paris' most eligible bachelor, Antonio D'Grey was spotted with a mysterious and exotic young woman.' I would have said erotic myself but not sure this reporter is privy to that fact.  
  
'It's not uncommon for D'Grey to have beautiful women draped over his arm' -guilty- 'but one has to wonder about the extent of their relationship when the attractive couple were seen arm in arm for almost the entirety of the evening. Antonio could hardly keep his eyes off her.  
  
Could this bachelor's relationship status be about to change?' That was the Paris-Match article though, VSD sang a different tune.  
  
 **Daniella:** *She chuckles and takes a second to consider his offer before just decidedly shaking her head mid-puff-puff-puff.* Why should you do that? If we falter onto bad terms, you'd only be putting yourself in danger to come here.  
  
*And she takes another draft snapping finger and thumb to lock the door behind him. But she laughs as he starts reciting it - she'd be more impressed by that if she didn't know he hardly needs to read things more than once to memorize - and quickly has to stifle her blush and grin. Eyes alight, she 'mhms' in agreement with 'erotic' and feigns (unconvincingly) disapproval at 'guilty' but only taps more ash away.* Ah, well, they did get most things right. Have that one memorized too, Antonio?  
  
 **Antonio:** Danger? Ha. I laugh in the face of danger. *He smirks briefly, shaking his head at his own reference, wiping his mouth with a hand before smacking his leg and reciting the snippet of the article.*  
  
That one? Oh no *he shook his head, though his wiggling eyebrows answered 'of course'* any rag that describes you as a freeloading gold digger doesn't really deserve my attention. Sloppy reporting of course, you have plenty of your own money.  
  
 **Daniella:** *The light smirk is echoed in her eyes as she retorts, teasing (mostly),* I always wanted to die laughing too. Seems the best way to go.  
  
*Okay, maybe that wasn't worth the teasing tone she gave it, but as she puts the fag out, she's giggling as described. Then nods, thumbing the corner of her lips and turning towards him.* Sloppy. *She nods, still smirking at him,* And not even worth talking about. *Leaning against the window, she claps her hands together, saying playful,* Couldn't take your eyes off me, hm? And were they right? Is your relationship about to change?  
  
 **Antonio:** *No, he thought after a brief smile, one he quickly let falter upon realizing it was from remembering that was exactly how his father went out in the end. The thought however, was to him that didn't seem to be the best way to go at all.* There is something to be said about having the last laugh.  
  
*If he was ever going to go down, he'd want it to be with a bang. Theatrics, parade, fireworks, the whole shebang.  
  
Taking a step away from the wall, another lift of his eyebrows showed his agreement that the description was accurate.* I usually can't.  
  
*He lifts a hand now, gesturing and tilting his head.* But it has already.  
  
 **Daniella:** *She nods, smirking even as she noticed something dart across his gaze. A shiver trails down her spine as she thinks: does she really know him so well?  
  
She supposes that's the idea, but smiles softer just to bask in the genuine moment anyway. Tilting her neck and toying with the key on a gold chain over her chest, she winks first.* I know. I just like hearing it said.  
  
*Like she could take her eyes off him either. Smile widening as he moves nearer her hand stills, key mid-air.* Oh did it already? I feel I would have remembered the occasion...  
  
 **Antonio:** Oh? *He feigned surprise as he walked closer, eyes trailing over the skin of her neck she exposed maybe entirely too purposefully.* That's news to me. *As if he hadn't said specifically, knowing that fact to be true.*  
  
Well I don't buy new locks for just anyone, you know. *He teased briefly before adding more seriously* Or allow them to come and go as they wish in my home...of course, that'll probably prove to be a grievous mistake. *He stood in front of her, smirk on his lips.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Look at you. *Letting go of the key as she chuckles once, it slips beneath her emerald shirt, in the teasing little slit that opens near her collarbone. She loved darker shades on her, especially at night; the color pallate was just...richer.* Figuring me out.  
  
*Actually, she didn't think even she had done that yet, but she feels her breath catch absently as he nears her  Equally serious, she echoes him,* Neither do I. Though the new locks were a..aha, new one.  
  
*She cleans the corner of her lip of ash as her gaze falls on his mouth, then looks up again, letting her hand fall on his chest easily.* Not trying to lock me away like some forbidden secret then, Antonio?  
  
Because...you're probably right, but such a fun one to make...  
  
 **Antonio:** It's a slow process. *Different from what he was used to. He knew how to look at a person, spent maybe a few minutes in their company and know exactly what they were all about. Antonio was very good at that. The fact he couldn't do the same with Daniella was one of the things that had first attracted him to her. Just one of them though.  
  
Eyebrows lifting momentarily with amusement at her choice of words about the locks, he nodded absently as his hands reached for her waist when hers fell on his chest.* You've caught me, I want to lock you away in a tower, that's precisely why I allowed the press access to the party.  
  
*He wet his bottom lip, humming before a chuckle took him.* And are you enjoying yourself quite as well as I?  
  
 **Daniella:** Caught you? *How clever of him; saying that as he fairly catches her. Lifting as he takes her waist, she shifts so that her shoulders remain on the half open window. A trill shadows her voice,* Well, what better way to start a romance for the press? Mysterious and erotic stranger, *her finger taps as her brow arches,* who turns recluse abruptly--they'll never stop looking for my secrets. *Then she pauses, to turn her head towards the coffee table and murmurs in Latin, lighting two candles. The small smirk doesn't move as she continues in her low, bemused tone,* And while they're occupied with your fantasy, you've just so happened to give France a romantic Baronic hero for king. Who'd challenge you then?  
  
*Her eyes come back to greet his. Smoke slips through the cracks behind her while she rubs her fingers back and forth on his neck. Then she giggles, an abruptly girlish sound,* Oh Antonio--you have to ask? *She nods as her answer, even as she sucks on her lower lip.*  
  
 **Antonio:** Oh they'd stop, unfortunately. It's a fickle world we live in. Tomorrow a dog could learn to drive a car and we'd be instantly forgotten. *He smirked, shrugging briefly as really he only believed half of what he said. It was true though that after a certain time the majority of the press became easily discouraged and followed the obvious bait. That's why they and their actions are so predictable.  
  
Impressive, he expresses silently as he tilts his head briefly to look at the lighted candles, returning his gaze to her after. Who would challenge him? Apparently, whoever intercepted his shipment and framed Blanc. No wonder he was in such a good mood.*  
  
I know. *He begins, echoing her early words* I just like hearing it said. *Not that she did, but resisting those supple lips of hers for too long was a skill he had not yet learned. He leans to capture her mouth with his, releasing her bottom lip from her own teeth so that he might suck on it instead, tasting the cigarette on her tongue.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Oh, *she giggles again, hand catching the crease in his shoulder as she nudges him,* like you wouldn't love to see a dog drive a car. *It was a simple, lighthearted tease -- echoed near his lips as his continues leaning in. Turning whisper, she adds,* Like we could ever be forgotten.  
  
*Besides, the point (and she knew he'd understood her) was that they were doing his job researching her if they were all trying to figure her out too. Good luck, she thinks in a sardonic sing-song.  
  
As he repeats her words, her mouth drops open in 'aha!' bemusement--just long enough for him to take it. Sinking in to the soft, heady moment, she wraps hands on his neck and slants her lips, meeting every twisted, wet kiss. Sliding down his arm,when she reaches his wrist she tugs free of his grasp and walks backwards to her sofa, barefoot on the wood.  
  
Her fingers wiggle in the air as she does to beckon him after her, then falling to the small drawer beneath her cherry wood table. Rummaging for a moment, she frees and lays her knife near the candles,* You still haven't asked the real question though. *It was sweet.* I can't give you an answer - verbal or otherwise, if you don't ask.  
  
 **Antonio:** *Somehow it seemed unfunny to point out that if he wanted to be entertained by animals doing tricks to amuse him, he'd simply go to one of the m any charity events the wealthy of France invite him to attend every turn of the month. Instead, he remained silent with only a shrug for an answer. He was much more amused, and pleased, with the other point she brought up, tickling his ear.  
  
The kiss, heated and needy, ended quickly and he was left licking his lips of her lip balm and turning on his heels to watch her fall back on to her couch.*  
  
Once I find the words that don't make me sound like a 14 year old, I'll happily speak them. *He followed her to the couch but instead of joining her sitting down, he stepped behind her and moved her hair over to one side. Briefly distracted by her neck once more, he licked his lips before placing his hands over her shoulders, moving them deftly to massage.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Well, or words that make you sound in your seventies. *Smoothing her skirt out over ebony lace leggings that end above her ankles, her eyes might be cast down, but she's tracking every movement of his feet. Well, as best she can; when he slips behind her, she looks quickly to the table, ascertaining that her knife was still there.* If you asked me to 'go steady.'  
  
*Though she has her gaze on the silver blade, he exposes her neck anyway, and she melds into the warmth of his hands. Humming content under her breath she thinks in silence.  
  
Then,*That feels wonderful. *Her eyes were hazy, and it didn't have a thing to do with the candles wavering. Antonio's hands were effortlessly strong; the juxtaposition of ease, grace, and command was one of the few things that made her knees weak (hence sitting down). So she didn't really care if he was massaging to heighten bloodflow or what -- except --*  
  
I would ask how you knew I had a stressful day,* she rocks in time with his thumbs, * only I suspect now you did too. *It was one of his little oddities: generosity in the form of fixing external problems or relaxing others when he was the one with inner tumult.*  
  
 **Antonio:** *The dated expression was enough to make him snort and then shake his head quickly at the mere thought of saying those same words out loud.  
  
It was rewarding enough to see and hear her response to his ministrations. His eyes weren't the only thing of his he could keep off her. They tended to have tactile conversations in the midst of their normal conversations as well.*  
  
The cigarette was a tell *he spoke softly, a small smile on his lips.* First time I've seen you smoke one. *Though she was correct, it had been stressful for him as well.* What was stressful *he dug his thumbs and moved them in circles along her shoulder blades* about your day?  
  
 **Daniella:** Ah, right. *At his words she looks back to where the ashtray was, a curve in her lips as she surveys the unshapely clay and warm colors, oranges and yellows. Lila had perfect form even as a little kid.* I suppose I do have a few vices.  
  
*That makes her grin at the irony. Nodding absently, she's careful not to bounce her hair too much; the dark curls on her neck tangle her cherry shampoo with a sweeter scent to Antonio just beneath her skin. Teasing, she offers instead,* I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours...  
 **Antonio:** Don't we all? *He remarked lazily with a bemused smirk as he continued to massage her shoulders and upper back, loosening her up and unwinding her under his talented hands.  
  
Licking his lips again, he finds himself chuckling at her sly answer.* Cheeky. *He replied with the English lingo he'd been hearing recently.* And here I was trying to be conscientious and not focus on myself.  
  
*He bent down closer to her ear* Would it be cheating to say read the headlines? *He pressed a quick kiss to the skin behind her ear before standing straight again.* An employee arrested and my cargo disappeared. Bit of a headache.  
  
 **Daniella:** Mm, *if she was ever pressed to tell the truth she would have to admit she's only half playing at being distracted by his tender, revolving fingers,* but some of us are much more then others.  
  
*Was it stroking her ego if she was doing the same to his? And was it flattery from her if she says the same of herself? The cyclical thought mirrors his hands - and so she doesn't have to admit aloud she was actually just being factual. Antonio was more than other individuals -- any other she'd ever met actually.  
  
(She didn't believe that meant he or she were better than the whole combined population. That was where you got into trouble.)  
  
Stilling, her breaths flutters over parted lips frozen in a smirk--yes, it was cheeky--as he ghosts her ear.* I don't expect you to play fair, Antonio. *She exhales that, sigh haunted by giggles, then teases,* And besides, you could do the same for mine.  
  
*The President was especially irritable as he knew Blanc would be freed shortly. Of course he would, she thinks crossly, the police was too corrupted at present; it didn't diminish the accomplishment of the man's 'cargo' seizure. Besides: he could hardly lead to others of his compatriots from a jail cell, now could he?* Blanc's arrest has the office in a tizzy.  
  
*She smirks idly to herself, saying easily,* Something about his officers willingness to fabricate evidence...as if he's shocked by his own corruption. *Sighing, her shoulder shrugs, as she snorts,* And then he had me going through the law codes for loopholes to hold him. I don't think he understands the word irony.  
  
*She tilts her head back now, eyes fluttering open as she looks at Antonio upside down, throat exposed.* Headache, cheri? *She licks her lower lip, sucks on it briefly, hand lifting to scratch nails across her gullet as if soothing an itch from the chain his key was on, before she adds, * Anything I can do?  
  
 **Antonio:** *Good, his breathy chuckle near her ear seemed to said. Because I never play fair. He played to win, so he did whatever it took to do just that. These concepts such as rules or honor or integrity, there was no room for them in his world; he made no room for them and he was doing quite well without them.  
  
Save of course, his employee being arrested for being caught with the cargo that was supposed to be on a ship.*  
  
You were figuring out how to hold him? *He remarked with a sudden if unusual glee (oh shut up, Olivier, of course he wasn't sane).* Of course if you found anything you wouldn't tell me.  
  
*She tilts her head, exposing her delicious throat, but he didn't stop his massaging. Though his hands did sink lower, allowing him to lean his head .  
  
*She tilts her head, exposing her delicious throat, but he didn't stop his massaging. Though his hands did sink lower, allowing him to lean his head down closer once more.* A few things've crossed my mind. *He teased biting his lower lip for a moment when he realized he found the words.*  
  
I've not seen anyone else during the time we've spent together and I've no desire to do otherwise. *He leaned forward to look at her better, his head turned towards her. He bit his bottom lip again.* Would you like to make our relationship exclusive?  
 **Daniella:** Yes. *She says immediately--to answer both the questions. They were figuring it out, and she wouldn't tell him. Lips flicking wider she adds softly,* Which you like.  
  
*He would hate if she makes things too easy for him, but she means more than that. Antonio values loyalty-which makes sense to her. Business was synonymous with family for him.  
  
She exhales and suddenly ceases thinking entirely as his hands slip forward, as he leans closer. Her gaze sticks on his lips as she listens to him, smile soft even as her eyes were glinting wicked.  
  
It surprised her to hear, even though they'd been dancing around the question for a quarter hour. Lowering her hand to expose her throat further to him as his hands slip forward. She nods absently first -- oh, she was sure he could think of many things (as if he didn't know what she meant). Then her chin stills, leaning forward to kiss him instead.  
  
Sucking his lip into her mouth, she pulls back only to run her tongue across his bottom lip and says sweetly,* Yes. If you need to hear it aloud. *She plucks his lips with another soft kiss and adds with a little smirk,* About these things I can do for you...  
 **Antonio:** I do. *He agreed quick enough, nodding with a smirk. He appreciated and respected her commitment and integrity. Their relationship didn't change how she worked. Granted, her job allowed her to do very little in terms of creating trouble for him. And given that he was already working on the possible outcomes of the next presidential elections, the troubles could be decidedly less in the years to come.  
  
That's not what he wanted to focus on. Antonio didn't like to focus on work constantly, and with this beautiful woman agreeing to be his, it was easy to forget about it.  
  
Snorting under his breath as she claimed to answer because -he- needed it said out loud when she'd been the one who'd told him to put it to words.* Hmm *he answered after the kiss and then placed his mouth over her neck, kissing her pulse* may I?  
 **Daniella:** *She seemed to have made him speechless for the first time tonight; the little murmurs of appreciation and breathy chuckles he'd been reducing her to for fifteen minutes, she licks her lip in amusement and pride hearing them from him too.  
  
Quietly, she kisses the side of his lips before she turns too, tangling her fingers with his as it rests, her muscles now so loose she just feels warm. It still makes her smirk; the polite way he asked the question.  
  
Nodding, she still makes the point for it to be aloud again, as his mouth grazes her neck. Her nose points to the knife.* Oui. *Her eyes are already closed, thumb brushing against his palm, back and forth, back and forth. Teasing she adds,* If I can call myself your cara too...  
  
 **Antonio:** *With her permission given, he outstretched his hand to carefully float the knife to it before grabbing it by the hilt. The careful movement was more for her benefit than his; the brief spike of her heart that would have been caused by the spook of the knife flying near her face works have only made her blood flow faster. Admittedly, it could have also taken away her consent but that's not why he'd done it.  
  
Fear was not the only emotion that enabled a quicker blood flow.  
  
He used the hilt to trace the very line he intended to incise across her neck. It would be neither long nor deep, rather just right. Perfect.  
  
Then he replaced the hilt with his mouth, licking and sucking on the skin slowly and attentively, before moving his way up to her ear. Nibbling on the shell, he finally nodded to her own request, breathing hot* You are my cara...  
  
*He kissed behind her ear again and then leaned away just enough to bring the knife in. The cool, sharp metal touched her skin and then broke it. Scarlet liquid decorated her olive skin, dripping down in a straight line, which he immediately licked up before attaching his mouth to the wound.  
  
It was the eternal fight struggle between heaven and hell made liquid . It hit the back of his throat hot, and he continued to suck, his fingers absently ghosting over her throat as he hummed in pleasure.*  
  
 **Daniella:** *The blade moved through the air calm, so she didn't even notice, distracted as Antonio slides closer, slipping her into his warm embrace. Head tilting closer, she murmurs in anticipation, throat vibrating where the decorated hilt traces. The line was firm, like one draws to tenderize a chicken breast, and she knew her heartbeat was responding instinctively. It doesn't matter that she's offered, that they've done it before, that she knows the high her body will fight her to succumb to -- the knowledge that the blade would soon slice her own throat still jump kicks her heart.  
  
Actually, she thinks dimly with her eyes closed as his lips replace the metal and his fingers play with her hair, maybe - like foreplay - it made the rhythm race worse.  
  
(That explained why he enjoyed teasing her.)  
  
A shiver slips down her spine as he hisses around her ear and she relaxes into his curves, incoherent mumbles answering him until a tiny 'ah!' leaves lips parted half-heartedly. The sting of the rip was taken instantly by his tongue, a sponge to her blood, prodding with the tip to capture stray drops before his mouth attached to her wound. The one he made, she thinks with a tiny grin at her own irony for getting such grand enjoyment out of it.  
  
And oh, God (Satan?), was she lost to pleasure. The pain melts instantly as he sucks, and so does her barbed exclamation, her fingers tightening on his wrist as his explore crevices in her painted skin. The sensation, his suction on her vein heightened by his own vibrations, sets her skin on fire even as her mind disappears.  
  
Her hand on his wrist slips, but she just reaches behind her to his waist instead, needing to hold on to something. The first time he'd done this had been less graceful - as it was unplanned - but Daniella couldn't say truthfully she hadn't enjoyed that too.*  
 You know, you shouldn't go so long without eating... *But her breath cuts out over the playful tone as his tongue darts and yes, it was against common sense, but Daniella just curves closer to his warmth.*  
  
 **Antonio:** *Daniella responded to him like nobody else had done so before, even those who offered him blood willingly. It only made the blood rushing through her veins that much more intoxicating. A taste unlike anything anyone could ever imagine without experiencing it. Life pouring on his tongue and down his throat.  
  
His name left her eternally plump lips, his thumb brushing against the line of her jaw before tracing said lips. Antonio only nodded once, barely so as to not dislodge himself from her neck. The next comment he cut off by licking up the wound again, sucking a little harder as he pressed himself against her more.  
  
Breathing in through his nose, he nibbled around the edges of the incision, pulling more blood into his mouth and then pulled back, licking up a line again before healing the cut with a whispered spell. Kissing the tender spot again, he licked around his lips and then looked back up to her eyes, pupils blown and dark. He smirked.* Delicious, cara.  
 **Daniella:** *He drank from her neck as if she were a wine he'd first massaged to the perfect age. Daniella only mumbles and holds on to him, lost in a daze. Her mouth moved back and forth across his thumb caressing her, nuzzling. When she'd first realized that Antonio (and she surmises Olivier as well, considering the blood bags she saw in the manor) might not have fangs, but thirsted for blood anyways -- she'd quickly come to the conclusion she prefers he drink from her. When in her right mind, she reasons that's because patients in the hospital actually need blood more than she does, considering they often don't have her ability to make more.  
  
As she was far from in her right mind as was probably possible, she just thought she just feels so bloody good right now.  
  
His kiss makes her realize the wound is closed once more, and she turns towards him, her legs slipping up to the couch, tucking her ankles beneath her as she smirks at him. Delicious, cara. Why did she take that as such a compliment? She tries not to yawn, even though she feels so tired, seeing the dark blown pupils and knowing from experience how affectionate he starts to get.  
  
Holding her hand up to his cheek, her own dark gaze flutters for a few moments as she brushes her own thumb over his lips, curiously brushing across the purple-red stain.* Your one and only cara, yes. I do like being called that. *She whispers,* Your accent is insanely unfair, I hope you know, cheri. *She kisses him as if her blood wasn't on his lips and her nose nuzzles against his cheek before she pulls back and continues speaking quietly,* How should we celebrate?  
  
 **Antonio:** *He places his palm over the hand she used to trace his lips. Following her movements instead of pausing them or guiding them.* Yes but you already said you don't expect me to play fair. *He reminded her with a brief smirk before meeting her in the small kiss.  
  
Moving around to sit on the couch as well, licking his lips again, he contemplated her words.* Well I've already had a drink. *He winks a moment and then chuckled again.* But what about dinner? Home cooked.  
  
*Antonio was actually a very fair man. She fed him, and enjoyed it, and he fed her and enjoyed it as well though admittedly perhaps not in the same manner.*  
 **Daniella:** *She chuckles and just nods, forehead resting on his as they kiss, tangling their hands together on his cheek, ghosting over his five-o-clock shadow (Italian men.)* You have. *She teases,* Only the best for you, Antonio D'Grey.  
  
*Only now realizing he was finally sitting with her, she doesn't really want him to get up but has to admit...dinner sounds good. Really good. Damn, he must have taken more than usual. Was he that stressed from Blanc?  
She blinks tiredly, smile turning mildly wicked, tracing with her fingers on his palm and cheek.* Magnifique. *She licks her lip and pops her thumb, making the smacking noise teasingly,* Merci, monsieur, I even think I have steak in my freezer. You can cook it rare though, *she's still teasing,* I like it pretty much still bloody  -- well, you know.  
  
*Except she doesn't immediately let him get up, kissing him once, twice. When she does, she goes to get up too, adding idly as her fingers tickle at his elbow, (not to hold her up of course not - dammit, she was not weak with pleasures),* Oh- you said...*as if she was just realizing, ha, she looks with concern,* You were robbed?  
  
*Yes, he was. She didn't keep it though--neither did Eamon. Because they knew! This wasn't about them, it was about...greed.* Baby, how much? Or what did they take...?  
 **Antonio:** *He knew she was teasing him but 'the best' was genuinely what Antonio was accustomed to, and he expected nothing less.  
  
Chuckling as she debated only half-heartedly (it was a rare thing to refuse a meal from a D'Grey), he nodded as she relayed the teasing instructions on how to cook her steak.*  
  
As you wish, my cara. *He leaned back in to kiss her again and again, noticing her movements were lazy and unable to hide a pleased smirk against her lips.  
  
Pulling away, a wide grin that was his way of preventing laughter as she tickled his elbow, he nodded in response as he stood and walked.* Yes, though you can stop pretending you're not secretly pleased.  
  
*His grin turned smirk again before he shrugged and folded his sleeves up above his elbow and upon reaching the kitchen, turned on the faucet to wash his hands.* Let's just say the business suffered a 8.3 million loss, profit-wise. *He had bought the shipment for 10 million, but after individual sales and the deduction of expenses, the profit to be made from the entire thing was still significantly high.*  
  
Nearly gave my accountant a heart attack. *He shrugged again, turned the faucet off and dried his hands before going to open the freezer. He didn't usually freeze meat, but defrosting it as a wizard wouldn't be a problem (he detested the microwave).*  
  
 **Daniella:** *She follows, quickly pulling her bar stool type chair against the island and sitting down; until she ate she knew her muscles were going to be weaker. That didn't mean she couldn't have fun with it. Her ankles were crossed so her skirt was teasingly high on her thigh, her hands 'demure' behind her so that her chest was still on display.  
  
Stifling a yawn quickly, she's content to watch his hands under the running water as she gets a wicked smirk too.* Oh, I'm not hiding -that-. *Hiding something though yes, obviously, she was. Her thumb brushes absently over the red, tender skin on her neck without noticing it.* That "product", *she air quotes with only one hand,* missing can only be a good thing in my book. *Her smirk twitches, but she continues genuinely.* Doesn't mean I can't also be concerned for your sake. *And she was. Concerned about retaliation - not Antonio retaliating against her, unless she was very mistaken on their present situation - but unhappy buyers. Her eyebrow takes a hike.*  
  
Dual objectives, *she teases as she watches him take the steak out,* as I am personally invested in your well-being.  
  
*Oh, they should open a bottle of wine.*  
 **Antonio:** *An interesting choice of words. She wasn't hiding that particular detail, not she wasn't hiding anything, just that. Was he thinking too deeply here? Antonio wished he was, but he knew himself and his skills well enough to know that when he picked up on subtle nuances in speech or behavior, it was for a reason.  
  
At the same time he valued her honesty. It was true- unless he could find immediate replacement, the streets would be moderately clean in a week, and for a couple of weeks. There was still some left in reserve as Antonio, even while known for his on-the-fly decision making, knew to be prudent, even still, he suspected higher prices now, which meant more violence and more desperation. Both very good things for the police department and president's office, for instance.  
  
He placed the frozen steak on a plate and used a spell to begin the defrosting while he looked for the spices he was going to use.* I, will be perfectly fine. *And that was true. He winked and then proceeded with his little scavenger hunt.* I'm taking you spice and herb shopping soon. *French and Italian cuisine is significantly different, but that was still no excuse not to have doe fresh cut flat-leaved parsley.*  
  
 **Daniella:** *Her smile softens as she considers that: yes, he would be. She wasn't lying when she said she wants him to be either. Antonio's father - dead now, and she suspects she knows how even if it wasn't confirmed (but it being the hunter Antonio claimed was a lie; Eliza had told her that) - was the only D'Grey she loathed (obviously). Olivier would likely be even happier than she if Antonio found a way out of this business.  
  
(And she didn't intend on giving him much choice on that front.)  
  
 Her heart skips a beat at the thought of this tenuous, lovely and sensitive thing between them resting precariously atop a dangerous game. But Antonio valued her integrity -- of course, he thought she had compromised it some already, but that...was hers, wholly, and one thing she'd never do. So was it that surprising she's attracted to his own steadfast demeanor?* Bien. *She blows him a kiss, then laughs.* Oh are you? I shudder to ask what I'm missing - if I didn't have you to cook sometimes I don't know what I'd do. Ironic. *My* little brothers were very picky eaters -- I was always stuck making basics. And they wouldn't listen to my fashion sense either. You and Olivier on the other hand, look a little like twins sometimes...except he's in white more.

 **Antonio:** *He laughed once as she expressed on how much she was missing and then tilted his head, looking at her over his shoulder.* Well you do have salt and pepper so as far as American seasoning goes you're pretty much covered. *He smirks and then after grabbing the olive oil, turned to prepare the meat *  
  
White's not my color. *He commented idly as he dried the steak before rubbing it with olive oil.* It washes me out. *He continued teasing with a smirk.*  
  
 **Daniella:** Oi. *She laughs, her finger coming up and pointing at him, teasing,* You don't have to call me an American here -- do you see a Big Mac in there? *She points at the fridge, then tilts her head.* Though their chips are pretty good.  
  
*She points to the ceiling before she let's her hand fall back on her thigh, tilting her head as she watches his hands. Damn. She was constantly distracted, and he knew it too.* Mmm.  
  
*She rubs her hand absently at her thigh, adding after a moment.* Well. I think your best look is nothing at all. *All nonchalant, she snaps her fingers,* But you Italians, seriously...going to be the death of me, you know.  
  
 **Antonio:** You're right, that is wholly unfair to you. *He wiggled his brother and then inclined his head to give his reluctance agreement. Of course, they excelled in junk food, that wasn't a surprise and there was no denying it.  
  
Raising his gaze, the intended destination had been her eyes but as her hand made contact with her thigh, he found himself taking the scenic route instead.*  
  
What a coincidence, I would say the same about you. *He winked again and then chuckled at her expression because if he didn't take it as a joke, it'd be all too real.* Oh but what a way to go.  
  
*He added the mix of salt, pepper and whatever these menagerie of spices was, rubbing that in as well.* So what do you want with the steak? Rice? Potatoes? Vegetables?  
 **Daniella:** What an incredible coincidence. *Deadpan and instantly, the words were as playful as his; they spoke quickly to avoid the truth in them as they were both much too blunt to not speak.*  
  
You. *Exhibit A on how blunt they were. Grinning idly, she let's her hand slide up her thigh as his gaze had, absently trailing his mark on her neck (a shiver snakes up her spine and her heart stops), then taps her bottom lip.* Oh wait, that wasn't one of the options. *Still teasing as she draws around her swollen lips, she muses,* Only because that's a certainty. Hm.  
  
There's some vegetables in there, yeah. *And then she got to watch him wield the knife; something sure to kick start her slower heart beat.* And I'll, *she floats a bottle and opener to her from the standing rack,* open the wine for us.  
  
*She pops it open, licks the tip of her fingernail teasing,* I mean to have you for the whole night you know. *She points at the phone on his hip, brow wiggling.* Do you *need* that? Or can we both, *she draws her from her bra,* put them away?  
  
*And she winks.*  
 **Antonio:** *The smirk on his face was immediate. Licking his lips at the immediate image, he cocked his head and then lifted a hand, and an eyebrow to signal 'yes, apart from me.' Well, that was his initial intent, after he was just very content in watching the way her hand trailed across her neck and how s he bit on her bottom lip.*  
  
Vegetables it is. *He smirked and then moved to wash his hands again as she levitated a bottle of wine to her.* Va bene *he nodded as he dried his hands on the small towel and smirked again as she bluntly stated she was having him the entire night and did not intend to be disrupted.  
  
Grabbing the phone off his belt as she motioned to it, he demonstrated turning it off as he watched her take the phone out of her chest. Smirking and licking his lips again, he showed her it was shut down entirely before pocketing it in his back pocket.* I'm yours, mia cara.  
  
*He winked in response before heading to the fridge to see which vegetables she had.* Hopefully any and all emergencies can wait until morning.  
  
 **Daniella:** *Still content not to have to get up, she starts floating crystal -- the good crystal -- from where they hung upside down over the island he'd be cutting on. Her eyes stay on his phone the entire time as he 'demonstrates', but she just chuckles when she looks down finally at her own phone.  
  
Atop it was a text from Dylan - "Now don't do anything rash sis" - which she shows him before shutting her own off just as demonstrably as he had. With a little giggle she pretends to look for her back pocket, shrugs, then slides the phone over the bar instead.  
  
She pays attention to which pocket it was in, more from habit than any intention. Best to lay low a few days, after all, wait and see what Antonio's next move was. Well. His next move that did not involve his personal life...which now includes her exclusively. Why did she feel blood rush to her cheeks at the thought? Mmm..she was amazed she even had enough freed blood left to blush.  
  
Pouring the glass, she echoes,* Hopefully. If you know, no one does anything rash. *She licks her bottom lip as if in anticipation, adding brightly,* And Olivier has my flat phone if necessary. I don't even know my flat phone number, but he would. *She chuckles.* Can't think of an emergency that can't wait...oh. Wait. Non-Stef based emergency, that is. How uhm. -is- she, anyways?  
 **Antonio:** *He chuckled at the text on her screen from one of her little brothers and then shook his head. Brothers. He was surprised there wasn't a similar on his own phone before he shut it off. Except his would read more along the lines of 'try not to kill anybody tonight' and maybe even have an 'xoxo' attached to it.* Wasn't aware people still had landlines anymore, actually.  
  
*He put some broccoli, string beans, zucchini, carrots, and artichoke in a strainer to wash them under the sink.* Dead.  
  
*That was his first reaction and then as if remembering the glare from both his brother and his girlfriend, he elaborated.*  
  
Actually, she's adapting pretty well. Better than many newborns I've encountered, and with a lot more control. Still a meddling brat of course *he nodded as he got the zucchini, carrots and artichoke onto the chopping board and picked up a knife, passing his fingers over the edge and pleased to find they were sharp. He looked up to Daniella now before he exhaled and revealed with genuineness he'd never shown the girl herself* but I'm glad of that. It's..Stef, 2.0. Software update, Stef, lot more durable, but still the pain in the ass my brother fell in love with. He'll see that soon.  
  
 **Daniella:** *Now pouring the other glass and sneaking glances as he continued to chop things up, she finds a small smile sneaking across her face with the abrupt shift in tone.* I presume you haven't told her that.  
  
*She says it playfully, knowledgeably, waiting a moment as she lifts her gaze from the wine she still pours adding,* Because she continues to complain about that to my answering machine, I mean. *But she was fine with him assuming she could know him that well...as, she kind of...does. She sets the glass down, brushing her thumb still against the tender spot on her neck as she remarks absently,* I haven't seen her...well except at Notre Dame. I'm glad she's....better, in control though. Must be the meddling control freak upgrade.  
  
*She breathes out and then blinks abruptly, finding the last remark a bit odd.* Is he not...adjusting well himself? *She breathes out, thinking she wouldn't be that surprised.*  
  
And besides. *She adds with the sly smile back.* You like meddlesome brats.  
  
 **Antonio:** You sure you're just presuming? *Chop chop chop, quick against the board he looked up as he paused, not wanting to add his own blood to her dinner, as fair as that would seem. Daniella just didn't have the same taste for it.* Because that is quite accurate.  
  
*Even if she did say that it was because Stefanie had apparently told her, Antonio wouldn't be surprised if she did know. Unsurprised but still a little...unused, to it. No one knew him that well, save Olivier and maybe Nonna.  
  
He returned back to his quick chopping as she spoke, knowing Daniella hadn't seen her otherwise she would have been made a tasty snack and Stef would have found herself out of a house if that had happened.* Olivier? He would have spent the rest of his life with her, pretty sure of that. Kind of hard wrapping your mind around the idea that the woman you love is technically dead and frozen in time. *He paused and then shrugged* I suppose.  
  
*He looked back up as she made her point, leaning to grab the glass she'd poured for him and then raising his eyebrows in admittance* True, but not when they seem like six year olds. *He smirks and then clinks their glasses together before taking a sip.  
  
Hell, that was delicious.* Oh mia cara, not only do you taste exquisite, you have exquisite taste.  
 **Daniella:** *Lifting her eyebrow, she decides to just let it answer for her, as it made it pretty clear she was genuinely that knowledgeable. Well, and okay, maybe she was mocking (lovingly!) the eyebrow communication that he had with his older brother.  
  
Nodding slowly as she wraps her hands around the glass, she lifts it even as she yet considers the point. Antonio was doing that too.* I suppose. *She echoes him, this time mostly serious.* I admire him sticking by her, honestly...though I do understand why she...did it. I just can't...help thinking she'll end up regretting it. Wolfboy--ahem, Hans -- *she shrugs that away teasingly, knowing she was speaking of a friend of his,* isn't going to live forever like she is now. Well, unless--  
  
*She pauses, then shakes her head.* No, that wouldn't work either. Amalie's grandmother is never wrong, vampire blood is toxic to wolves and vice versa, so.  
  
*Maybe there was some kind of ritual but she didn't fancy advocating making Hans deadlier. And she didn't imagine Olivier had any interest in turning either. So, instead she says softly,* Nice of you, worrying about your brother's love life though. Not that they've uh-- made it too private in that manor.  
  
*Then again, nothing was private in that manor. She pauses to clink the glass with him, and starts wiggling the arched brow again at his words, leaning over to caress his cheek before she giggles.* And again, *lightly,* I take that as such a compliment. What's wrong with me, cheri?  
 **Antonio:** Oh there's no doubt she'll regret it. I think a small part of her already does, honestly, deep down...way down. *He snorts and shakes his head, adding the chopped carrots to the bowl with the broccoli and string beans, and picking up the zucchini to chop it as well.  
  
He ignored the little nickname for Hans, his brother's making probably, and then wondered how exactly Daniella knew Hans was looking to become a 'true' hybrid. Of course, Antonio ha d immediately lifted his eyebrows and inquired whether that made him a false hybrid. He chuckled at the brief memory and then ahhed* Yes, Amalie who so graciously disinclined my invitation. *That was her more poignant characteristic at the moment, until he could find another.*  
  
I'm almost hurt. *He teased before he resumed his chopping, nodding (after a roll of his eyes).* Hard not to worry. *A newborn vampire was feeding from him, older brother or not, it wasn't something Olivier was handling alone.*  
  
Many things. *He smirked after speaking honestly and turning his head to place a kiss on the palm of her hand near his cheek* It's part of your appeal.  
 **Daniella:** You sound very sure. *It was just an idle observation as she's nursing the purple wine and still refusing to stand in case of weak knees. The words were lazily spoken, but by the last she's lifted her gaze to his again, as if she suddenly hears herself.* Speaking from prior experience? Isn't that the trick to appearing omniscient?  
  
*Antonio had known...several vampires that she knew of, the most obvious and predominant (as well as the reason for her tender neck and warmth at present), his own father. Did he mean his Dad had regretted it? Hard to imagine Remington D'Grey ever regretted a single thing in his life. Ha. Life. If that's what she's calling it.  
  
The moment her best friend was referred to, Daniella sits straight and let's to forgotten glass idle in her hand.* Ah...yes I know, you aren't used to rejection. Or people with untenable morality. Oh, did she hurt your feelings? *She teases,* I would apologize on her behalf but I'm certain she's not sorry, so. *With an idle shrug, she doesn't blink from him.* But she is my best friend Antonio.  
  
And she's always gracious. Half of secondary I planned on just marrying her. *Teasingly, now she does sip, only to be distracted by his lips on her palm.  
  
The mere touch of them, still stained with her blood, slips a tingling shiver under her skin. Daniella only smiles.* Ahh...explains your appeal as well then.  
  
*She nods, stealing her hand back, before he added her wrist to the pile of vegetables for the knife in his hand; she wants to wake up fully again, not pass out. Returning easily to the topic she brushes off her skirt as she talks.* It's always hard not to worry about siblings. Dylan...is not one to talk about doing anything rash.  
  
*He, and his sponsor, both have the flat phone number too. She looks up again, but only smiles.* Still though. Even if she's behaving six...I think you should tell Stef that. Won't it help her hang on to her humanity? *Or was she being naive? Maybe...it just wasn't her real point. Light,* Even if not...Olivier would appreciate the support. The, *she corrects herself, nudging at his shoulder,* vocal support, not just eyebrow spoken. He worries about you too.  
  
*Uncrossing her heels, Daniella shifts on the counter and wraps her fingers idly around the edge of it. It hangs in the air - the obvious fact they'd conversed on the matter and then she brightens, meeting his gaze as her eyes and smirk widen,* But then as you've said...you will be absolutely fine. And we, *she points at the food and him with the glasa,* are celebrating. So. Spice shopping. Where are we going baby --India on your private jet? Going to show me the world?  
 **Antonio:** 90% sure I would say. Stefanie tends to be...contradictory? To say the least? *He smirks and shrugs* So if she ever figures out I think she'll regret it she might just stubbornly refuse to. This is of course assuming she even cares- we have a mutual toleration. And it's bad to say I prefer her now...but I do. *Normally he didn't pay that much attention to Stef but now with her living in the manor he couldn't exactly let her go unchecked.  
  
As far as prior experience went? He shrugged.* She's only half as wicked as she believes herself to be. Seen plenty of newborn vampires like that. *Most of them didn't make it for very long. He hoped for Olivier's and Hans' sakes that this wasn't the case.  
  
And yes, maybe he'd be a bit bothered by it too.*  
  
Rejection is a keen sting *he smirked before shrugging* but I'll get over it. Thought of you and her in the marriage bed is helping to soothe my ego. *He honestly wasn't wounded, especially knowing that for a person like Amalie, a rejection was almost all she had in her arsenal as far as retaliation went. If it made her feel better, well, she was Daniella's best friend as she had just said.  
  
As she took her hand back, he resumed his chopping and listened to her, nodding as he saw she had a point though the prospect of saying it out loud was not one that was appealing at the moment.* He knows I support him. *Obviously. Oh, that was that vocal thing again wasn't it?*  
  
Spice shopping. *He picked up the change after finishing chopping all the vegetables and putti ng them all in a bowl.* I don't have a jet. *He countered after a chuckle and smirk.* But no, I know of a little market right here in Paris.  
 **Daniella:** I've noticed. *Nodding through a chuckle, her fingers tap across the base of her glass.* Both her uh - contradictory nature and your mutual ... *she sips,* denial of the fact you are fond of each other, even in contradiction. As a human anyway, witnessing some of your debates on religion were...epic. I imagine more so now.  
  
*Considering Stefanie had told her she believes in souls, Dani's heart aches for her friend now having to believe she'd had Ellwood suck it out of her. And she died, so was there the soul of a human Stef in heaven somewhere now her consciousness was unaware of? Musing 'hmm' under her breath, she quickly giggles.* Very keen.  
  
*Oh honey, she almost says, she and Amalie's arsenal far outweighs rejection's bee sting. As that would give up the ghost as it were, she says instead, pleasantly,* I know. That's why I gave you the image.  
  
*Daniella loves doing that. Now sliding the glass away from her crossed fingers, she leans back to rest her head on a cabinet, just watching his hands.* No jet?! *The feigned gasp catches in her palm.* And you call yourself capo? *She teases,* Even Bond villains have a private jet.  
  
*Her pupils were slowly resuming a normal shape, but she can't help but notice his were only darkening. More shivers hide under her skin.*  



	6. Don't Be So Mean to Me, Lyndsi...

**Harper:** Fine, don't answer me then. *smirks and then pulls the bar stool back, taking a seat.* I'll take it as a measure of your cowardice.  
  
 **Laura:** *eyebrows rise as she sits down* Last time a man called me a coward-  
  
 **Harper:** Putting words in my mouth-  
  
 **Laura:** -by the time I was done with him, he didn't have a mouth for me to put words in. *eyebrows arch*  
  
 **Harper:** *grins* but you wouldn't do that to me.  
  
 **Laura:** Remains to be seen. *she sniffs, lips pursing in amusement* You did just call me a coward-  
  
 **Harper:** Hans, help me out here.  
  
 **Laura:** You're calling for back up and yet I'm cowardly.  
  
 **Harper:** I said there was a measure of cowardice. There's a difference of syntax and semantics.  
  
 **Hans:** *Chuckles under his breath, he's unwinding his scarf to wrap around the back of his bar chair and simply fluffs his collar at the first call. He was preoccupied taking stock of the other patrons (and offering a wink to one of the girls). Looking back at Harper, he says lightly,* Mm, let's see if I remember my primary school. Semantics has to do with the meaning of a word, while syntax has to do with the ordering, deriving meaning in context. So, he wasn't saying you _are_ a coward, merely that this particular action is cowardly. And as--*looking at Harper with an important-looking smirk and conciliatory nod (he was supporting his mate after all),* I'm sure it was meant politely, *looks back to Laura,* it could be seen as him looking out for you, remarking in astonishment as we both know very well you are many things Laura--but coward is not one of them. *His lips flick, playful,* Now, sensitive on the other hand...Harper, I believe you upset her sensibilities...  
  
 **Harper:** *smirks* Top marks, mate. *He looks back to Laura* Exactly what he said.  
  
 **Laura:** *Rolls her eyes, shrugging out of her coat and placing it on the back of her chair.* It's cowardly of me not to answer a question?  
  
 **Harper:** Very much so. Oh, did *he puts a hand on top of his chest* did I upset you? *grins* Please know that it wasn't my intention in the slightest.  
  
 **Laura:** Sensitive? *Turns to Hans* That is quite the word to throw around by a man that draws ponies.  
  
 **Harper:** *restrains a snort* Purebreds, I'm sure!  
  
 **Laura:** I'm not done with you either, Harper. I'll make you both eat your words.   
  
**Harper:** Not my favorite meal. *shakes his head* It was just one little question.  
  
 **Laura:** Your definition of little is quite askew.  
  
 **Hans:** *Unabashed,* Who's throwing? I'm not hiding that I do, on occasion, enjoy the partaking in certain artistic endeavors- particularly of the animalistic nature or of the flesh, but ah, *as he sits,* you were talking about my drawing. *With a side-smirk to the girl, he looks back at Laura, brows wiggling.* Besides. Hiding a hobby sounds to me it has a measure of cowardice attached to it. *He folds his fingers together beneath his chin, eyes flitting to Harper.* I'm afraid I was distracted before -- what question is little or askew?  
  
 **Harper:** Prat. *he shook his head and then leaned forward to talk to the bartender* Ello sweetheart, bottle of your best and three shot glasses please. Thank you. *grins easily, watching her walk away before turning back to Laura and Hans* Oh, I asked her real name of course.  
  
 **Laura:** An answer no one has proven worthy enough to receive Harper. What makes you think you're any special?  
  
 **Harper:** *smirks and then motions to himself* Have you looked at me?  
  
 **Laura:** *rolls her eyes, looking between the two men and then sighing* I surround myself with egotistical maniacs.  
  
 **Harper:** That's funny, no one's called me a maniac before. *wiggles his eyebrows* It's a question.  
  
 **Laura:** *looking forward, grabbing the bottle as is placed in front of them and opening it* It's an invasion of my very being.  
  
 **Harper:** Well, *smirks* making it sound so dirty, no wonder I'm so insistent on an answer.  
  
 **Laura:** I did give you an answer darling *pours the shots* Read my lips-  
  
 **Harper:** Gladly, and with great attention.  
  
 **Laura:** -Fuck. off. *grins and slides a shot to Hans*  
  
 **Harper:** Music to my ears.  
  
 **Hans:** *Delight in his eyes and an 'ooh' on his lips, he only mirror's Harper's earlier gesture as he lays a hand on his heart. Then winks. He says,* Her real name? *Ah, that age old question. He'd asked it first when...ah, well. Chuckling at Harper's interruptions, he's nodding along in agreement though he adds playfully,* Careful mate, or else we'll hear the last man who spoke that way to her walked away not a man at all. *He tilts head, still chuckling, fond and nostalgic,* Remember that evening?  
  
 *Laura had red hair, not the present blond then. He preferred the red, even knowing the need for disguise. Looking sidelong at Laura, he tilts his head and says,* The past affairs  I would argue luv, aren't relevant and that your real name is Laura, simply by the fact that wise dull men do parrot choice as a determining factor in being. So. *picking up the shot glass* What's the harm in saying an old name that's no longer of any consequence?   
  
*Oh, he knew. The danger was in admitting there was ever a life before. But Laura always had them both at a disadvantage, and as they were meant to be equal...he arches an eyebrow.* After all, you know mine.   
  
**Laura:** *smirks at Hans' tease, catching Harper's eye to show him it was accurate* How could I forget?  
  
 **Harper:** My greatest sympathies for that man, truly.  *he catches the shot glass she slides to him, fingers tapping against the bar as he listened attentively to Hans*  
  
 **Laura:** You know very well the harm, Hans. *Waves her hand and grabs her glass* Enough of this nonsense.  
  
 **Harper:** I don't find it nonsensical in the slightest. *adds in with a grin*  
  
 **Laura:** A better plan would be to try and get me drunk, and ask me then.  
  
 **Harper:** Two things wrong with that plan: one, *raises a finger* I would never dare take advantage of a woman. And two *raises the other finger* you're impossible to get drunk.  
  
 **Hans:** *Smirking and drumming his fingers on the glass even as he agreed to all above. Oh, Hans had a better time than most staying with her, but his tolerance wasn't exactly human, so Harper's point stood. And he could be forgiven for the lack.*   
  
**Laura:** And yet you would have a far greater chance undertaking that mission instead. *smiles*  
  
 **Harper:** Oh come on Lyndsi, don't be so meaaan to me.  
  
 **Laura:** *Raises her eyebrow* Is that supposed to be an attempt at my name?  
  
 **Harper:** *confused, brings the glass down a moment before downing it* What?  
  
 **Laura:** You called me Lyndsi.  
  
 **Harper:** *frowns* Did I?  
  
 **Hans:** *His brows flickered in confusion. Hans downs his own shot before speaking.* You did, mate. *Gasping on a raw back throat, he smirks.* And mixing up the girls' names? *A brow arches,* Oh, you're on your own for that one. So go on then. *Picking the bottle up, pouring them each another shot.* Who's Lyndsi?  
  
 **Harper:** *still frowning, he only barely chuckles at Hans comment before downing his shot so it could be refilled, a small gasp leaving his mouth* Honestly, I haven't a bloody clue.  
  
 **Laura:** *She looks at him curiously as she picks up the shot glass again and drinks it down. Someone from his past then. He never talked about it because he couldn't remember it and she knew that he didn't want to, otherwise his genius mind would have figured something out already.* And here I thought I was more special than your group of girls.  
  
 **Harper:** Undoubtedly, darling. *he assures with a small grin as he leans in to kiss her cheek, though the mirth doesn't quite reach his eyes.*   
  
**Laura:** Uh huh. *she shares a look with Hans and then taps the bottle with her nail* Pour him another one.   
  
**Harper:** Is that your solution for everything?  
  
 **Laura:** No. *smiles* Not everything.  
  
 **Harper:** Ah right I forgot, a good shag for the rest. Well, *picks up his glass* I'm up for it if you are. *winks and drinks it down before motioning for a refill*  
  
 **Laura:** Always the charmer.  
  
 **Hans:** Curious. *His smirk was unmoved, his single word response light.Swirling the shot he held, he appears transfixed by it to the leiman's eye. Reality held (as it always did) a different tale (a sadder tale). Harper's heart, under Hans' fervent listening, had skipped itself to a tango drastically removed from the man's casual dismissal. Turning his head after he downs the second shot, he shoots Laura a look a moment--then folds. He pours for them all, saying as casually as Harper had,* Well, perhaps the past is more relevant than I thought. *With a thin curl to his lips, there was genuine concern in his eyes as they flick to Harper.* Even for those of us with the fortune not to remember. *Or perhaps especially. Hans downs another shot.* Laura luv, *He smirks,* did you actually manage to stump the genius?  
  
 **Harper:** Fortune *he repeats with a dry smirk before nodding.* Yes, it really is. *most of the time...though he always had this missing piece he felt. A hole he tried to plug up with booze.*  
  
 **Laura:** *And yet his tone said exactly the opposite. She turned her gaze away only as Hans spoke up to her and then smirks* You know, I think I did.  
  
 **Harper:** *he scoffs, tilting his head* Stump me? In your dreams.  
  
 **Laura:** You flatter yourself if you think I dream of you.  
  
 **Harper:** You did not stump me-  
  
 **Laura:** *holds a hand up* Hold on, I'm enjoying this moment.  
  
 **Harper:** Hardy har.  
  
 **Laura:** In which Harper the genius is left clueless.  
  
 **Hans:** *Nodding, he adds,* And delusional.   
  
**Harper:** Now you're just being mean.  
  
 **Laura:** *holds up her glass* To me. *downs it*  
  
 **Harper:** *looks to Hans, a smirk on his face despite it* Next time, we're leaving her behind.  
  
 **Hans:** *Self-congratulating though, Hans understood. He grins. Truly, sometimes he envied him not able to remember -- other times (rarely and yet most ardently), he pitied. Only, Harper required no pity, so Hans raises his glass to Laura's toast and downs it generously.* Ah, if you'll call this 'gaggle' of girls to accompany us, *he smirks,* I'm in. *The third (fourth?) shot achieves the pleasant hum that was missed so entirely in the previous two (three). Increased tolerance was just a challenge meant to be met. Eying Harper, pleasantly,* If you aren't stumped, then surely you must have some idea--old lover? Sister? Secondary school teacher you corrected on one too many exams and had to ah-'charm' your way out of failing?    
  
 **Harper:** Well, of course. *smirks* Three for each. Unless of course, that intimidates you.  
  
 **Laura:** *Under her breath as they speak, in a bored tone* You're men, you love sex, you're men, you love sex *waves her hand, bored but then as the conversation turns, she pays attention again, refraining from taking a drink*  
  
 **Harper:** *he laughs at the teacher one, licking his lips and then nods* While that does sound fun, no I don't think that's it...lover I expect. Her name *he thinks it again, his lips lifting* makes me smile. *Pauses before he adds* She must have been really good.  
  
 **Laura:** *Men. She shakes her head* Maybe it wasn't about sex.  
  
 **Harper:** *eyebrows arch*  
  
 **Laura:** *rolls her eyes* Fine, maybe not _just_ about sex, you fucking Don Juan.  
  
 **Hans:** Luv, *to Laura, smirking,* you say that, as if you don't enjoy it yourself. Sounds to me an issue for deeper discussion later. *One psychological issue for a night please--he wasn't a miracle worker. Amused, he nods in agreement with Laura, saying lightly as he taps his ear,* Oh does more than make you smile hun--your heart's going faster than I suspect, that bartender's losing her panties tonight. *Still smirking, he tilts his head, a glint in his eyes of curiosity.* Oh-ho. Perhaps. Have you truly been in love, Harper? *His lips flick.*   
  
**Laura:** Alright Dr. Hans, you don't have to solve all of our problems. *she smiled for a moment before laughing once at the simile*  
  
 **Harper:** Clever. *he remarked, smirking before adding lightly* but she's not wearing any.  
  
 **Laura:** I'm this close to giving up on both of you.  
  
 **Harper:** *grins and shakes his head before he questions* Love? A novel, childish concept.  
  
 **Laura:** Can something truly be novel and childish at the same time?  
  
 **Harper:** I am a man of contradictions.  
  
 **Laura:** *smirks* you're avoiding.  
  
 **Harper:** I am not.  
  
 **Laura:** Hans, I think you hit the nail on the head there darling.  
  
 **Hans:** *His eyes only widening in delight of every word, he can't help but point out,* Darling, it doesn't sound to me Harper is the only one avoiding. Though I won't deny being a doctor. *He winks. Ha. A doctorate in the human body he might have--but his intimate knowledge came from raw heat of experience, not dull textbooks. Amazed he says,* Why, I believe I did. *Playful, light,* I am good. *His head tilts,* She break your heart? Otherwise I doubt this Lyndsi would...particularly thank you for three girls each.   
  
**Laura:** We're ganging up on him today, not me, thank you. *she finally takes the shot she'd been holding*  
  
 **Harper:** I am so happy to have this opportunity to be the source of your smugness. *he motioned to both of them* One stumping me, another figuring me out.  
  
 **Laura:** You're transparent when you're deflecting, sweetheart.  
  
 **Harper:** *rolls his eyes and then answers pointedly* Don't think it's broken. Maybe I broke hers. If she were important, wouldn't I remember her?  
  
 **Laura:** She's important enough to appear subconsciously.  
  
 **Harper:** You're both doctors tonight.  
  
 **Laura:** I know people and human nature. *she says casually though they all knew her knowledge hadn't been learned casually* and if she's passing through your amnesia-  
  
 **Harper:** I can work out what that means for myself. *waves his hand dismissively.*  
  
 **Hans:** Sure you could, *waving his own hand,* the point here is you're avoiding it on your own. *and he's curious, so curious, because whatever they said -- the truth was he was interested in knowing who they'd been.* So that's what we're here for, mate. *Laura knew nearly everything of him (intimately, and not because of the fun way really). And Harper he owed his life to. Without the man, he'd still be resigned to hell once a month, a cycle much worse than the panty-less bartender still eying his friend. Arching an eyebrow as he fills Harper's shot glass for him, he says,* And after all, what -are- friends for? *Now filling his own glass, with a little faked gasp,* Why should you smile if you're the one who broke -her- heart? Here I thought I was the more sadistic.   
  
**Harper:** Well I used to think friends were for helping us ignore our problems with liquor and women.  
  
 **Laura:** That sounds very immature. *It was irony that amused her* It's a good thing you have us then, isn't it?  
  
 **Harper:** I'm doubting that now. *Nods to Hans as he fills him up again* No mate, no one will ever be as sadistic as you.  
  
 **Laura:** You are quite the master. *she prods Hans with her heel before turning to Harper again* I think you're scared.  
  
 **Harper:** What? *turning away from looking at the bartender again, scoffing*  
  
 **Laura:** Oh I'm sorry, I'm mistaken.  
  
 **Harper:** Yes you fucking are-  
  
 **Laura:** I know you're scared. Scared to figure out who you were and what you have up.   
  
**Hans:** Mm, but that's the part that comes after sharing. Ah! *His finger points to the ceiling,making light as ever of all their shared tragic pasts,* Maybe you skipped primary school. That must be it. *He chuckles to himself, quieting near instantly as Laura mentioned fear. He was too surprised to even do more than smirk at the mention he was master. Well, he chuckled once as her heel dug into his thigh, he wasn't Ghandi. Tilting his head, he shrugs in pleasant agreement with them both.* Face it mate, if you're not scared--and I agree you aren't--then there's no reason not to track down this Lyndsi, is there? *Brow arching slowly, he adds offhand,* Why, your heart skipped a beat just at the -mention- of seeing her again.   
  
**Harper:** You know, I really fucking hate that you can do that Hans. My heartbeat is my business, not yours.  
  
 **Laura:** Touchy. *smirks and then shakes her head, thinking it through. Tracking down this Lyndsi might not be a bad idea.* So you're gonna look for her?  
  
 **Harper:** I'm going to drink and drink and uh...*grins* Drink. And if you don't want to join in *points to the door*  
  
 **Hans:** Too damn bad, isn't it? *Smirking as he flicks his ear, he thinks honestly more than half of what he heard he'd prefer to forget. So there had to be some advantage to this whole thing--and oh, how many glorioua advantages there were. Lightly,* I thought the point was to get -Laura- drunk. *Brushing the top of his jacket clean, he chuckles.* But I must admit, this sounds like a plan to me.  
  
  
  



End file.
